


(Un)Worthy of Your Love

by Ninna_7



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Emotional Hurt, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Future Fic, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, POV Derek Hale, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninna_7/pseuds/Ninna_7
Summary: When you have chemistry, all you need is one other thing: timing.But timing is a bitch.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 21
Kudos: 145





	1. The Gravity Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Mitch Rapp's (American Assassin) look in some gifs I saw.  
> It led me to think that that's what Stiles would be like if all his past trauma caught up with him.
> 
> I love Stiles and it was really hard to write him as anything less than perfect, but at some points, he's a little unlikable in this work.
> 
> Titles inspired by Ben Platt's songs.
> 
> Hope you like it.  
> Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated :)

Derek runs, wolf shaped, until he can move no longer. His front left paw is broken and one of his hind legs bleeds profusely from two gunshots that he knows won’t just heal. He hides under a dead tree, shuffling and ignoring the pain on his ribs.

Everything sounds a little too quiet around him.

_____________________

“I think this is your best work yet,” The short-haired dark-skinned woman sitting in front of Derek said, and he was able to hide a sigh of relief. “I made some notes,” She slid the manuscript on the table to him, “A couple of suggestions. You let me know what you agree and don’t agree with, and we can go from there.”

Derek nodded with a smile on his face and reached for the manuscript.

“Thank you, Val,” He said, “I’ll email you tomorrow then.”

“Wonderful!” She returned the smile and took a sip of her coffee before looking at her watch. “I should be going, but thank you for this,” She tapped on the manuscript, “It’s very…” She paused, trying to find the right word to describe the book, “...relatable,” She finished, standing up and putting on her coat.

“It’s because it’s true,” He said, deadpan, getting up as well.

She sent an understanding smile his way and hugged him tightly before turning around and leaving. Derek finished his coffee in one gulp, still standing, put his scarf around his neck, and left the coffee shop.

Valerie was a beta werewolf who lived in the same area as him. He met her after leaving Cora in South America and moving back to New York, where he still had some connections and wouldn't risk becoming an omega.

He had enjoyed living in South America with his sister and her pack. It was good to be around a big pack again, calming, healing, even fun. He took his time to come to terms with his past, with his guilt and his regrets. Cora convinced him to try therapy, he started smiling more, and when he was finally ready, he decided to move back to New York. Still, he didn’t think he’d ever heal enough to be happy in Beacon Hills ever again.

He didn’t stay in South America because, as much as he loved Cora, as much as he was always included by her pack, that wasn’t his home. So he left again, and a week after arriving in New York he met with the alpha responsible for his area, Miranda Nieves, Valerie’s wife.

He didn’t have many friends in New York, but Miranda would sometimes invite him for dinners and pack events. She had known him and Laura from before, knew what had happened to their family and subsequently to Laura.

Miranda was Laura’s age and stepped up as the alpha of her pack a couple of years after brother and sister left New York. Her mother decided to step down and let her lead while she was still around to help her daughter.

In one of these dinners, Derek met Valerie, a witty, observant, sharp woman that reminded him a little too much of Stiles. She was quick to learn what every of Derek’s eyebrow movements meant, and could carry a full conversation by herself. He felt at ease with her, she was just as kind as Miranda, but she wasn’t an alpha, so she was softer. Derek needed ‘softer’ in his life.

Valerie had been the one to convince him to write, one night, after much discussion and wolfsbane wine. She was an independent publisher who specialised in supernatural material and told Derek that he had so much experience from his unsheltered life, that she was sure he could help many werewolves out there who needed guidance, even if said guidance was as simple as 'This is what you shouldn’t do'.

In the beginning, it was frustrating, he was too lost between too real and plain lies, too raw and too shallow. He could trust Valerie to never sugarcoat it and tell him what was good and what was shit. It was the most vulnerable he had ever felt, but with time he got used to it, especially under the protection of a pen name.

He’d been writing for two years now and was on his way to publishing his third book. This one was about the times when power wasn't enough. When one gets too much of it way too soon. It’s about loss, but not of others, of one’s self. It's also about hope, trying harder and getting better.

\-------

Derek took the underground train to his apartment. It wasn’t too crowded, just busy enough to be uncomfortable. He didn’t have to go many stops, so he stood close to the door.

After the second stop, when the doors were closing behind him once more, he heard a sort of squealing noise approaching fast and then someone stumbling and hitting him hard full-bodied.

He was ready to turn around and glare at the person, but the scent that intrusively invaded his nose nearly choked him, like an overwhelming memory one keeps locked away and hits them like a brick when they least expect it.

“Shit, shit! I’m sorry!”

The voice only confirmed what Derek already knew.

“Five years and you still don’t watch where you’re going,” Derek said, his voice faltering a bit before he turned around.

And holy shit Derek was not ready for what he saw. Last time he had seen Stiles, the younger man was a teenager, and that’s the mental image Derek still kept in the back of his mind. But Stiles was a man now, a handsome one, with lean muscles hidden under his suit and half undone tie. His hair carefully styled to look like it was an effortless mess, sharp angles on his cheekbones and jawline. They were almost the same height now.

Stiles and Derek stared at each other for nearly a minute, wide-eyed in disbelief, until Stiles smiled openly.

“Oh my God, dude! I didn’t know you were back in the country! How long have you been in New York? I moved a couple of months ago, after-” He gestured to the air, as if it carried the answer, “you know.”

But Derek didn’t know. Stiles continued,

“God, I didn’t think I’d see you around here, you know, crowded concrete city and all. Not exactly the natural habitat of your inner wolf or whatever.” Derek scoffed, but Stiles didn’t stop, “I thought you were in South America with Cora, thought you had settled there, but-”

Stiles paused and took a breath, eyes shining brightly while his brain probably finished three different lines of thought at once.

“I mean, it’s good to see you.” The younger man calmed down a little after that, “Five years, that’s right. Wow…” Stiles seemed to lose himself in thought for a second or two, “How’ve you been, though? Are you just visiting or do you live in New York now?”

“I’ve been living here for the past three years,” Derek stated, still a bit shaken.

Stiles looked surprised, a glimpse of something flashed through his eyes, but Derek didn’t quite catch it.

“I’m good...” Derek continued, not knowing what to say, or how much to say to this man, almost a stranger again, “I’m a writer,” He said, instantly regretting it, but changed his mind again as soon as he saw Stiles’ reaction.

Stiles almost took a step back to look Derek up and down, eyes bright and an honest smile. “Who’d have thought. Derek Hale, living in New York and... writing.”

“Why is that surprising?” He asked, sounding a bit too harsh, “It’s not the first time I’ve lived in New York, you know.”

Derek saw Stiles deflate suddenly, hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Right, yeah. Sorry, I knew that.”

“How about you?” Derek asked, trying to ease Stiles and bring his energy to the surface again.

Back then he’d never have caught himself doing something like this. Back then Stiles' energy was, on a good day, too much for Derek. But the werewolf had come a long way since and he felt better within himself. He could communicate and didn’t feel the need to hide his every emotion.

“You look well,” He added.

“Thanks, man.” That seemed to do the trick because Stiles took his hands off of his pockets again and kept talking, “I moved here ‘cause of work. After college and the whole FBI prep thing, I got assigned here.”

Stiles said something else, but Derek had just noticed something, getting distracted and frowning at the door behind Stiles.

“Hey, you alright there?” He heard Stiles ask.

“I missed my stop,” He said shortly, still frowning and looking over Stiles' shoulder as if that would change his situation in any way.

“Oh, sorry about that.”

“No,” Derek shook his head, looking at Stiles again, “It’s fine, I’ll just get off on the next one.”

“Cool, yeah. Um...” Stiles bit his lip, and Derek got distracted for a second, “...we should catch up sometime.”

“Give me your phone,” Derek ordered and Stiles obliged, taking a second to realise what was happening. “I got a new number since coming back from South America,” He said, typing his number on Stiles’ phone.

“Yeah.”

If Derek had been paying more attention, he’d have found that comment strange. A sign that Stiles already knew that. That maybe he had even tried to call. But as it were, he wasn’t paying the necessary attention.

The door opened again and Derek shoved Stiles’ phone back at him.

“Call,” He said simply, before flashing a smile at Stiles and rushing out of the train. He didn’t look back.

When Derek locked the door behind him in his apartment, he realised his heart was racing. Seeing Stiles had been a surprise, and he had to muffle the little voices in his head, conflicted about if having Stiles in his life again would be a good or a bad thing. They’d seen each other nearly die one too many times. Looking at Stiles was like looking at a part of his past he had been successful to leave behind. He didn’t know if he was ready for that step yet.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

**_“Good seeing you”_ ** Derek read.

**_“You too”_** He typed back.

He really hoped he was.

\-------

They met again on a Thursday evening, at a bar close to Stiles’ office.

“So you're with the FBI for real now?” Derek teased.

“What do you mean for real?” Stiles asked, faking offence, “It was pretty real when I got shot saving your sorry ass.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “They barely got your toe, I’m pretty sure that barely counts as an injury, considering everything else you went through even before joining the FBI programme.”

“Still, I was shot. With a gun. It counts, Derek.”

“Sure, Stiles. Whatever you say.” Derek hid his smirk behind his glass.

“Anyway,” Stiles cleared his throat, “I’m not a field agent yet. I’m applying in a few months, though. Officially I only help with some investigations from the office here in New York.”

“And unofficially?”

“Well,” Stiles smirked, stretching in his seat, “You know me. Has anyone ever succeeded in keeping me stuck in a room?”

\-------

A couple of beers later, Derek told Stiles about South America. About Cora’s pack and therapy. That last one surprised Stiles, but Derek ignored it. He then told the younger man about Miranda, Valerie and their pack. He said that Stiles should try to make contact, since he was part of a different pack, even if he was a human, just to be polite. And that line of conversation led to Derek asking about his previous pack back in Beacon Hills. 

“Dad, Scott, Kira and Malia are still back home,” Stiles began, “Though I can’t wait to take dad out of that hell hole. Things are a little better now, but he’s getting older. Scott’s been able to keep the pack and the people safe, but if he ever needs me, he knows where to find me.” Stiles took a swig of his beer, “Lydia got out as well, of course. I mean, she had to, she was always too good for that town."

"Is she here as well?" Derek asked and Stiles shook his head.

"She's living in Washington." Derek noticed a sad little smile from Stiles' profile, "We were together for just over two years and then…” Derek waited, “...and then we weren’t. Turns out we suck at being a couple,” His laugh sounded too much like a sigh, “I still love her though, she’s still amazing. We talk a lot. But these days I don’t think about her like that.”

“Who’d have guessed,” Was the only thing Derek said.

Stiles just lifted his eyebrows in agreement and finished his beer.

Derek knew of Stiles’ life long crush on Lydia and had been sure that they’d be it for each other. The way Stiles was almost obsessed with her through high school made him believe that, when they got together, Stiles would never let her go. And truly, the only person Derek knew that could ever match Lydia’s brain was Stiles, they were always unstoppable together, even before they became friends.

He still remembered that road trip back to Beacon Hills with Stiles, many years ago. He’d told Derek enthusiastically about them being together, and how happy he was. Derek started questioning if Stiles was as over Lydia as he said he was.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Stiles caught him by surprise, sounding hurt, “You don’t have to pity me. I know it’s hard to believe when you look at her and you look at me, but it was a mutual decision.”

It wasn’t hard for Derek to believe that at all. Stiles continued,

“We were both at fault and we grew apart until we realised that we used to make each other happier when we were friends.” Stiles picked at his bottle’s label. “Don’t get me wrong, it royally sucked. I’d been in love with her all my life, but then, you know… Well, life happens and sometimes things just don't work out.”

Derek felt as if Stiles was talking to him like they'd been in regular contact all these five years back. As if Derek hadn't run away and missed all that. Derek was supposed to know these things, Stiles' motivations and reasons, the “things” that didn't work out, and why he felt the way he did. But the truth was that Derek and Stiles were two strangers now. They had crossed paths a couple of times in the past, carried the weight of their shared trauma, but that was the extent of their present relations.

Still, Derek felt like he knew Stiles' core, and remembered enough of their history to respect Stiles more than anyone else in his life.

“I know better than to pity you, Stiles,” His voice sounded too serious and Stiles’ breath seemed to catch, “Even when you end up getting shot saving my sorry ass,” Derek tried to dissipate the heavy atmosphere that had formed between them.

Stiles laughed and signalled the waiter to bring him another beer.

It meant something, that Derek was now able to laugh at himself like that.

\-------

And just like that Stiles was back in Derek’s life. They texted and met a few times to talk about mundane things and supernatural things. It turned out that they had a very similar taste in movies and books, sometimes discussing them and suggesting new ones to one another. They were both invited as honorary guests to a couple of Miranda's pack meetings, and as Derek expected, Stiles and Valerie got along ridiculously well.

Sometimes Derek would feel something off about Stiles. He would take days to reply to a text, cancel plans for a beer or a coffee, and sometimes when he laughed, his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. But it wasn't Derek's place to pry. Stiles was always busy at the FBI and if it was a bit harder for him to genuinely laugh sometimes, Derek knew very well how that felt. He still had a demon or two he hadn't been able to tame, he was sure Stiles had them too.

He never thought too much of it, until one night, while saying goodbye to Valerie. He was leaving a dinner both he and Stiles had attended.

She took him aside, cupped his left cheek, - god, she reminded him so much of Laura when she did that, - and said,

“You be careful, Derek. Don’t forget you’ve hurt enough for this life and the next.” She had a smile in her lips, but concern in her eyes.

“Why do you think I’m gonna get hurt?”

“Because people with a heart like yours always do.” Derek opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head, “Just make sure that, when you do, it’s for something worthy.”


	2. You Could Share My Address

The wolf tries to keep quiet but involuntary whining noises come out of his throat whenever he forgets to focus. Derek closes his eyes, his breaths are short and irregular, and he can feel the cold sipping from the ground and into his bones.

Derek knows there will be no backup this time. No one will find him until it’s too late.

He knows he’s going to die.

____________________

It was less than a week after Valerie's warning when Derek heard Stiles knock at his door early in the morning. His heartbeat was a bit frantic, and he smelled nervous.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Derek asked, opening the door, “What happened?” He asked in a growl, freezing by the door when he saw the bruise formed on Stiles’ left cheek.

“You should’ve seen the other guy,” Stiles joked, but his smile faltered. He looked away and sniffed, “Can I come in?”

It occurred to Derek, then, that he had never told Stiles where exactly he lived.

“Yeah, of course.” He stepped aside, and Stiles walked in, looking around.

“You have a nice place… Do you own this building too?” He asked, sitting on the couch.

Derek grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and handed it to Stiles.

“Only half.”

Stiles laughed, and Derek stared at him. The young man's smile turned into a frown.

“You’re not joking,” Stiles realised.

Derek shook his head and sat down beside him.

“What happened.”

“Did you know that your questions don’t sound like questions when you’re angry?”

“I’m not-” He started, defensively, but changed his mind and just let his shoulders fall. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Stiles took a few breaths before he answered, “My flatmate kicked me out.”

Derek looked at him, waiting. That was only half an answer, and Derek was sure Stiles knew that.

“We um… we slept together last night.” Stiles sighed heavily.

Derek sensed that Stiles was waiting for his reaction, but Derek thought that there was nothing to react to. The werewolf knew Stiles’ flatmate was a guy, if that was what Stiles’ deemed worthy of his acknowledgement. It occurred to him that Stiles didn’t know that Derek himself wasn’t straight.

In truth, Derek felt a faint twitch in his stomach at the mention of Stiles sleeping with someone. He noticed it, but decided to ignore it for now. This was about Stiles, not him. But he was getting frustrated with how Stiles kept avoiding to answer his question.

“And what? You were so bad he had to kick you out?”

Stiles looked a bit affronted, before noticing the smirk in Derek’s face.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been told several times that I am great, okay?”

“Several times, is it?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows, his smile widening. There it was, that twitch again.

“Shut up, Derek,” He said, laughing and blushing slightly.

They both sat quietly for a moment before Stiles broke the silence.

“He’d never been with a guy before and this morning he freaked out. He said he was straight, I said some stuff, he punched me, I punched him, he kicked me out, ‘cause you know, he owns the place,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “And here we are.”

“Do you want me to go over there and scare him out a bit?”

“Would you really?!” Stiles asked, wide-eyed. Derek just scoffed.

“You can stay here if you want. There's a spare bedroom,” Derek offered, before he could stop himself.

“Seriously?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sure,” Derek shrugged, getting up, “I’m sure the FBI pays you enough to afford your own apartment, but if you want to stay here that’s fine.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, quietly, looking at the floor. “Okay,” He nodded, repeating with more conviction. He looked up at Derek, with a wide smile. “Thanks, Der.”

“Breakfast?” Derek simply asked.

\-------

Ten minutes later, Derek was serving breakfast for both of them, when Stiles shouted from another room. Derek quickly placed everything on the counter and followed Stiles’ voice to the spare bedroom. He was standing by the shelves, - Derek would have to move those, - holding a book for him. The werewolf felt himself blushing when he noticed which book that was.

“Really?” Stiles couldn’t control his grin, “Elias McWolf?! No wonder I couldn’t find your books.”

“It was Valerie’s doing,” He explained, awkwardly.

“And you  _ let _ her?!”

Derek didn’t know if Stiles was shocked or ecstatic from the way he stared at the book and laughed in disbelief.

“I said she could choose my pen name, ‘cause I couldn’t come up with a decent idea. I didn’t think she’d do something like that. I only realised what she’d done when the books had already been printed.”

“Oh my god, she’s my hero.”

Derek found himself unable to be angry. Stiles seemed happy on a day he should be nervous, frustrated and maybe a little sad, so it was okay. Derek could deal with that. Especially as he noted that Stiles was already reading the book, sat by the end of the bed, biting his lip in concentration.

Part of him feared what Stiles would think of the books. The young man was in them, after all. The other part, Derek realised, was dying to know.

\-------

The next couple of months were easy for Derek. He and Stiles settled in living together very well. Sometimes the younger man would leave for a couple of days, in a field mission he should not have been included. But most of the time everything was very domestic. Stiles would leave for work in the morning, Derek would spend most of the day writing and researching, and then Stiles would come back in the evening.

They’d sometimes have take-outs and movie nights and discuss Stiles’ cases that he was not allowed to disclose in any way to anyone ever, but since when had Stiles ever abided by the rules? It bothered Derek a little that Stiles kept open cases in display on his bedroom wall, but Stiles had done that for the entire time that Derek knew him, so he figured it was normal.

Derek helped Stiles prepare for his FBI qualifications, both mentally and physically, quizzing Stiles, waking him up before sunrise for long runs and timing his push-ups, sit-ups and all the other exercises in the aptitude programme. Derek finally understood why Stiles looked the way he did, and if his eyes lingered on Stiles’ body when they were working out together, it was only to assess if Stiles could pass his FBI test. That made complete sense.

More than just helping each other out, Stiles made Derek laugh, and Derek did the same for Stiles. Both had a sardonic, dark sense of humour, which came with years of crushing sadness and supernatural brutality. The least they could do was laugh about it. It was a way of coping, of healing.

And they cared about each other too, asked each other about their days, about new case developments and how Derek’s book was progressing. Stiles read all the previous ones, of course, letting Derek know exactly what he thought of the characters and his take on the stories. His side of everything that had happened to them.

Derek was too far gone on Stiles before he could even try to stop himself.

\-------

Derek arrived home after a meeting with Miranda, late in the evening. He sniffed the air a bit, smelling what he supposed had been Stiles’ dinner, hoping there was some left for him.

The meeting with Miranda had been a business one. She was having trouble with hunters acting out of their jurisdiction and wanted Derek’s support to contact Chris Argent. Derek was happy to oblige. Miranda’s pack had been good to him when they didn’t have to. He wasn’t part of their pack, after all.

He was hungry, and was about to let Stiles know that, when he spotted the younger man sitting on the couch, with his legs on the coffee table and a book on his lap. Stiles was also wearing glasses, and that did something to Derek.

Derek felt a little twitch at the base of his stomach as Stiles looked up at him. It’s never too late to learn something new about oneself. Derek realised he had a thing for glasses. Specifically Stiles in glasses. But glasses nevertheless.

“Those new?” He asked, indicating Stiles’ glasses with his head.

“Wha-” He cut himself off, “Ah. Yeah. Apparently spending the whole day staring at screens and paperwork isn’t that good for your eyesight. I don’t have to wear them all the time though,” He finished, turning back to his book.

“What are you reading?” Derek asked, forgetting his hunger and sitting down.

Stiles simply lifted the book, showing the cover of the second book Derek wrote.

“Haven’t you read that one already?”

Stiles shrugged, “I look good in this one.”

Derek laughed and shook his head, “I’ll keep that in mind for the next one.”

He was nearly finished with his current book, the one he hadn’t let Stiles read yet. Stiles sniffed as if in cue.

“I suppose there’s not much of me in the current one, then,” He sounded a little resentful in Derek’s ears.

“You’ll have to wait and see for yourself.” Derek got up, ignoring the side glance Stiles gave him. “Are there leftovers?”

“On the stove,” Stiles said quietly.

“Thank you,” He shot him a smile.

“Any time, you spoiled wolf.”

The truth was that Stiles was all over Derek’s new book. And Derek was only half nervous about Stiles finding out how much he helped Derek, unknowingly, to come back to the light. About how much he trusted the guy with his life, how much he admired Stiles.

\-------

The two of them had become actual friends for once, and Derek wasn’t going to spoil it by letting his feelings run wild. He never had luck in relationships, his most successful encounters being one night stands. They were easy, and Derek didn’t have to worry about them getting killed or killing his loved ones if they knew nothing about him. He couldn't risk hurting Stiles, the human got in enough trouble on his own.

Besides, with the frequency in which Stiles came back home in the morning instead of in the evening, Derek was sure he wasn’t interested in settling down, or in Derek for that matter. But sometimes it was hard to pretend that all he wanted was Stiles' friendship.

Derek was sitting on the couch one early morning, browsing the news on his laptop and sipping on a cup of black coffee when he heard Stiles trying to be quiet opening the door. He looked at the clock on his laptop. 7:23 AM.

He heard Stiles take his shoes off by the door. Derek was amused by Stiles' concern not to wake the werewolf up. Or not to get caught. It usually worked, Derek realised.

Stiles walked slowly and sighed when he caught a glimpse of Derek on the couch.

Catching Stiles mid-walk of shame was bad enough as it was, but Derek could handle it. He wasn’t a prude and was far from slut-shaming anybody. Stiles was his own man and had the right to come and go with whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. What caused Derek a special kind of pain was being able to smell it on Stiles. The smell of intimacy, of someone else, of intertwined sweat that almost made him choke.

Derek could barely breathe.

“Morning,” He said unenthusiastically.

“Morning.” Stiles let his shoulders slouch, “Is there more of that?” He pointed at Derek’s mug.

“Kitchen.”

“Nice,” Stiles said, exaggerated relief in his voice. He turned to go to the kitchen.

“Go shower first,” Derek ordered.

Stiles turned around, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You smell.”

Stiles dropped his jaw and raised his eyebrows as if he didn't believe Derek had just said that.

“Wow, thank you, Derek.”

Derek ignored Stiles’ stomping away to the bathroom.

“It’s not like I already can’t bring anyone home because of your damned wolf super hearing,” Stiles mumbled sarcastically from the bathroom, already turning the shower on.

Derek had never forbidden Stiles to bring anyone home. He was secretly glad he never did, but it was Stiles right to do so if he wanted to. And deep down Derek knew he’d always been a masochist, so when Stiles emerged back from the bathroom, smelling like himself and soap, Derek said, not looking up:

“When you want to bring someone home, text me and I’ll leave the apartment.”

He could sense that Stiles was staring at him for a few seconds, frustration still in the air. But then he turned back to the kitchen to finally have his cup of coffee. After the first sip, Stiles asked, no louder than if he was talking to someone right in front of him:

“Breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” Derek replied, a bit louder.

Stiles never took him up on that offer.

\-------

Stiles passed his aptitude test and finally became a feud agent. The two celebrated that night by binge-watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy, getting drunk and high on sugar together. Stiles bought Derek red velvet cake to thank him for all the support he’d given him. It was Derek’s favourite. He didn’t realise Stiles knew.

Stiles’s dad and Scott would be visiting on the weekend, when they’d celebrate once more, but that night was only theirs.

That had been Derek’s happiest day since the fire.

He wished that he had known that back then.


	3. Can’t Ease My Mind

Derek hears footsteps running in the distance, but they are still far away. He opens his eyes, trying to look up at the moon. With luck, he’ll die before the hunters find him. He closes his eyes again, starting to feel numb.

____________________

Derek was writing the final chapters of his book and finding the task excruciatingly difficult. It depicted quite graphically the physical experience of evolving, the overwhelming yet warm pain, how his entire body started giving in, as weak and fragile as a human’s, his werewolf powers nowhere to be found. And the realisation that he would choose his own death to the death of his friends.

He had been drinking through all the latest chapters. Just enough to numb the pain so he could power through each chapter. He’d edit it all sober, cutting out the most gruesome and gratuitously violent parts, filtering through the absolute nightmare he left behind. But first, he’d force himself to put them all on paper.

He owed to himself not to sugarcoat his past, to remember what led him to become the man he was now.

Being a little drunk, Derek only noticed Stiles’ presence when the man put his key clumsily in the door lock, cursing under his breath after missing it three times.

He looked at the calendar in the corner of his screen. Stiles wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. It sometimes happened that Stiles would come home a day or two later, depending on how his assignments progressed, but he never came back earlier than expected. Especially not at 3 am and tripping drunk.

Derek left his room and stopped in front of Stiles’ bedroom.

The younger man stood by the end of the bed, facing the wall that had the entirety of his latest case on display. Strings connected locations to people and potential motives. He worked his lower lip raw in a stress response Derek had grown accustomed to and stared at the pictures on the wall, practically not blinking.

Derek smelt Stiles’ tears before he even saw them in his eyes. Stiles had also been drinking, he was sad, and he was furious.

“Stiles?” Derek said, worry carrying in his voice

Stiles jumped a little, he hadn’t noticed Derek there this whole time. He smiled bitterly.

“Of course you’d be awake.”

Derek didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, or why Stiles sounded so resentful. Or why he suddenly approached the wall and punched it, denting it ever so slightly. Derek lifted his eyebrows in surprise before frowning. Stiles’ smile returned even more bitter than before.

“Shame. No superhuman strength to make the damage I want.”

Derek hesitated for a second and then approached Stiles, holding his wrist and lifting his cut and bruised hand.

“You’re bleeding on the floor,” He said, lacking touch, “Go wash it and sit on the couch. I think I have a first aid kit here somewhere.”

Stiles opened his mouth, and Derek thought he was going to start an argument, but then Stiles seemed to change his mind, because he closed his mouth again and got in the bathroom, starting the shower a minute later.

It took Derek nearly ten minutes to finally find the first aid kit Valerie had made him buy. He could hear her voice clearly in his mind, “You never know when a human is gonna forget they can’t heal and do something stupid,” with a hint of irony in her voice. She’d been turned, after all, exactly for putting herself in a life or death situation.

Derek found Stiles on the couch, holding his hand on his lap, purple bruises already formed on his knuckles. His hair was damp and pointing in all directions. Derek noticed Stiles’ hair was longer than the usual style he wore, as some of it covered his eyes.

He sat down beside Stiles and started cleaning and dressing the wound. Stiles hissed and flinched when the alcohol stung his flesh, but Derek held his hand in place, just enough force to keep him still without hurting him further.

“I can take it away if you want,” Derek offered.

“No,” He shook his head, “I want to feel it.”

Derek thought of protesting, but couldn’t find the words. He didn’t know what had happened, but judging by Stiles’ state, he knew it had been bad.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked in a gentle, low voice.

Stiles simply shook his head, and Derek could smell shame in the air around Stiles. He decided not to press further.

He got up and threw the bloody gauze and cotton in the bin in the kitchen.

“Are you looking to sober up before going to bed or do you prefer to pass out drunk on the couch?”

Stiles scoffed, “Your call, big guy. I’ve made enough bad decisions for the rest of the month.”

Derek opened a cupboard to pick up a mug, “Whatever happened, inflicting pain on yourself and blaming yourself like that won’t make it any better.”

“Talking from experience?” Stiles’ voice came out quick and sharp, and Derek was surprised by how those words didn’t hurt him.

“Yes,” He replied, a little amused, and shame emanated from Stiles as he looked away again.

They were silent for a moment, while Derek picked up two mugs and put them on the counter to make some coffee.

“I hesitated and someone got hurt. Our guy is on the loose again and a kid is in the hospital,” Stiles spoke quickly, his emotions heightening at every word.

Derek put the mugs back in the cupboard and reached for a bottle of bourbon in another. He grabbed two glasses and sat by Stiles again, pouring them both a generous dose.

“You’ll find him again,” Derek took a sip of his bitter drink, even though it wouldn’t make him drunk, “It’s what you do.”

Stiles shook his head and drained his glass, “I should have known better,” He poured himself another glass, “I thought he was human, so I shot him on the shoulder with a standard bullet.” He took another sip of his drink, pacing himself this time. “No use against a werewolf, is it?”

Derek didn’t reply, downing his drink in turn. Stiles spoke of shooting someone as if that was a recurring event. A decision made with a level head and no repercussions. It occurred to him that it probably was, and Derek didn’t like that. He knew Stiles was no stranger to violence and he knew that Stiles was the kind of person capable of making a difficult call when necessary. But the Stiles he remembered never took these decisions lightly, it was never something to be brushed off. Derek hoped that that was still the case, but something in the back of his mind told him that he was wrong.

“You couldn’t have known, you’re-”

“Human," Stiles cut him off, "Yeah I get it. That’s the problem, isn’t it? If I’m not good at this, if after all this time I can’t help people the way I should… If I can't keep up with you and Scott, then what am I even good for?”

“Stiles, you can’t be serious.” Derek sat on the coffee table, facing him, their knees touching. “You take care of your dad, you’re Scott’s best friend, you’re the only one capable of keeping up with Lydia’s brain  _ and  _ you saved my life several times… All that while being human.”

Stiles scoffed a sarcastic laugh, “Imagine how things could’ve been easier if I had let Peter bite me when he offered.”

Derek only noticed the growl in his throat when Stiles’ eyebrows shot up in front of him. Derek mimicked the other man’s reaction, surprised. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Stiles broke the silence.

“Well, good to know that’s where you stand in the matter,” Stiles said, eyebrows still raised.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- It’s not- It’s- Peter…” Derek fumbled with his words.

Just the thought of Peter, of all people, giving Stiles the bite was enough to bring his wolf to the surface. Derek saw some level of understanding shine in Stiles' eyes.

“Don’t worry, Der, if I get tired of being human, it doesn’t matter if Peter became a super alpha, he’d still be right at the bottom of my list.” He said, mockingly.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“That’s good to know, but my point was, you won't catch up with me or Scott, - and I’m judging your decision to even put me on the same level as him, a true alpha." Stiles snorted, but Derek continued, "The point was that you’re already better than both of us combined. Human or werewolf, that doesn’t change a thing.”

Stiles kept looking at him, lips parted and attentive eyes. When Stiles’ scent changed to something earthy and sweet, like raw honey. Derek started to think that maybe he’d said too much. He wasn’t ready to be alone with Stiles and that scent.

Derek didn’t trust his control that much yet, so he got up, saying, “You’ll catch your guy. This was just a bad day.”

“Understatement,” Stiles said, pouring himself another drink.

“Good night, Stiles.” He walked away, running from his feelings and Stiles.

“Good night, Derek.”


	4. It’s Easy for Us to Hide, but if You Come Out then so Will I

Derek’s ears twitch when he hears gunshots. He must have passed out because the voices and shuffling sound of people running are closer now. He doesn’t open his eyes this time, though the moonlight pierces through his eyelids.

He just wants to fall asleep.

____________________

The two months that followed that unsettling night, when Stiles returned home filled with frustration, sadness and raw anger, were relatively quiet for Derek. He finished his manuscript and was in the process of editing the last few details. In a week or two Valerie would be sending the books to print, and he would force himself to take a break before starting the next one.

During these two months, Derek and Stiles didn’t mention that night once. Nothing about the case or the emotions felt on that night crossed their lips. An unspoken agreement to avoid mutual pain.

They didn’t even have much chance to talk about anything at all since, whenever Stiles was home these days, he hardly ever left his bedroom. Derek was worried and even started to miss Stiles, their movie nights, dinners and breakfasts. But Derek didn’t know how to reach out for him. He still struggled with his feelings, so he didn’t know how to help Stiles with his own. The task was especially hard because he knew he couldn’t be completely honest. It was difficult hiding his feelings from Stiles on a good day, let alone when he knew Stiles was suffering and there was nothing he could do to help.

So Derek took his days one by one, one step at a time, as his therapist had repeatedly instructed him to do a couple of years back, and he was fine. It wasn’t great, but he could handle it. He had his book, his friends in a pack which always made him feel wanted, and the occasional good day when Stiles made an appearance in the living room to play some video games or watch whatever movie Derek had on the TV.

\-------

Derek was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, spending just a little too long styling his hair for a dinner party at the Nieve pack’s house, when Stiles arrived from work one early evening.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” Stiles said, undoing his tie, “Can I go with you? I don’t want to drive any more today.”

Stiles was also invited.

“Yeah, of course.” Derek met Stiles’ eyes in the mirror and noticed how they lingered on his face and hair for a moment, “Had a good day?”

Stiles shrugged, meeting Derek’s eyes again and saying, “Can’t complain. You?”

“Yeah, productive.”

“Cool,” Stiles responded, spinning on his heels and moving out of the door. A few steps away he said, “Do I have time for a quick shower? I’ve been on the road most of the day and don’t want to impose on any supernatural noses.”

Stiles appeared by the door again, as Derek washed the hair products off his hands, holding a towel and a change of clothes. His shoes had been abandoned in his bedroom and the first 2 buttons of his shirt had been unbuttoned, revealing some skin. Derek took all that in through the mirror and turned around. Stiles stepped aside for him to get out of the bathroom, but Derek stopped at the door, not looking at him.

He inhaled deeply, making a show of it.

“Cinnamon roll, fresh air and coffee.”

Derek noticed Stiles’ jaw drop through his peripheral vision, before continuing, “You smell fine,” He said and smirked when Stiles’blushed faintly. He then walked away.

“Privacy, Derek!” Stiles shouted, flailing his limbs.

“You have fifteen minutes to be ready or I’m leaving without you.”

“I bet you needed more than that just to make your hair look like that,” Stiles replied, already closing the door, but Derek could hear his eye roll.

Still, it felt like a compliment.

Half an hour later they left the apartment together.

\-------

It was a big dinner party, including the entire pack and its closest relations. Derek knew nearly everyone at this point, and Stiles wasn’t too far behind. While Stiles acted bravely and free and ventured to talk to everyone in the house, Derek kept to his closest acquaintances, them being Valerie, her older brother - a human - and Miranda’s older cousin - a werewolf.

Derek and Stiles approached the trio after dinner, drinks in their hands.

“I’m just saying, virtually every queer person our age I know had Pirates of the Caribbean to thank for their sexual awakening,” Valerie said and, noticing the two men joining them, asked, “Am I wrong, boys?”

They both shook their heads.

“Yeah man, Will Turner made me want to grow up to be both gay and a pirate,” Stiles cheerfully replied.

“Right?” Derek agreed and continued, “Elizabeth and Will are two sides of the same bisexual dream.”

It took Stiles a moment to take that in and stare at Derek with wide eyes. Derek stared at him in return, a smirk on his lips as if saying  _ ‘Now you know’ _ .

The conversation around them continued, and a couple of minutes later Stiles eloquently whispered, “Huh…”

He seemed deep in thought, and Derek suppressed a laugh, before noticing Miranda walking in their direction.

“I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves,” The alpha said.

The group shared variations of assent, before she spoke again, “Can I borrow you for a second?” She asked Derek directly.

He looked at Stiles and then at Valerie’s all-knowing smile before replying.

“Yeah, of course.”

\-------

Miranda guided him through the party and into her study. A room Derek already knew from the few times they had formal businesses to discuss. Such as his and Laura’s presence in that part of New York when Miranda’s mother was still the alpha, and his return to the city after Miranda took over.

Miranda was a beautiful, imposing woman. Her whole posture demanded respect any time she entered a room. She was also unbelievably kind, which contrasted deeply with her position and the sometimes hard choices she had to make. So Derek wasn’t afraid to be called to her study, but he was definitely curious.

“Valerie has been raving about your new book these past few months.” She said, smiling, and sat on one of the armchairs in front of her desk.

“It’s been taking a while, but we’re nearly there now.” He sat on the one beside her, following her lead.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“I hope it lives up to the expectation.”

“It always does,” She said, and Derek feels like he’s blushing.

“Thank you,” He says quietly.

“You’ve been through a lot for your age,” She begins, and he only stares at her. “I’m older than you, have gone through enough myself, and still it’s not even a fraction of what you’ve had to deal with.”

She took a sip of her wolfsbane spiced red wine and set her glass down. Derek placed his spiced beer on the coffee table as well, this was a talk she wanted them to be sober for.

“When I first met you, you were a lost boy. I could smell the guilt and the anger coming from you from miles away, and you hardly ever took your eyes off the ground. But you changed. You grew wiser, kinder, you chose what was worth fighting for, found balance and evolved. You’re the only wolf I know who can perform the full shift,” She finished with admiration in her voice.

Derek wanted to protest, but decided to listen instead.

“In my eyes, you’re an alpha in your own right,” At that, Derek opened his mouth to protest, but she placed a hand on top of his and looked straight in his eyes, “You gave up your power to save your only living sister. I don’t care what colour your eyes are, Derek, you are exactly what an alpha should be.”

“Thank you, but I can’t be an alpha if I don’t even have a pack.”

“But you do, don’t you? You Still have Cora’s pack, the Beacon Hills pack, you have us, and you have Stiles. I would trust you with Valerie’s life if it came to it, and I can’t say the same about every member of my pack.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not. Which is why I thought I should formally invite you to be part of my pack. That’s if you truly miss belonging to a single one.”

Derek was surprised and confused by the offer. He was flattered, it was no small thing to be invited into a new pack like that. A large, powerful pack, established for many generations. But he was also worried, because these invitations usually implied an exchange. There was always a price to pay. Blind allegiance, status, power and even name were coins to bargain with.

His mind rushed, against his instinct to trust Miranda, to think about all the possible reasons she could have offered it. Was she interested in the full shift? Did she want to mate him with someone in her pack? He was still a Hale after all, and even if his family weren’t there anymore, their name still carried significance.

“I… don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Miranda said, casually, “As I said, you’re an alpha in your own right. You are a friend, and I won’t be offended if that’s not what you want. I just wanted to give you the option, if that’s what you think is missing in your life.”

“Are there any… conditions?” He tried asking, not wanting to offend her.

“None. You already do a lot for this pack, it’d be just a formality.”

“Thank you, I’m flattered,” He said, looking down at his hands.

“But...”

“I need some time to think.”

“That’s fine, Derek. In your own time. This is not an ultimatum.” She smiled at him.

After a few moments, the two rose and returned to the party. Stiles stood outside, strategically placed a few meters from the door, talking to someone Derek didn’t know very well yet. He caught the werewolf’s eyes briefly with a curious glint in his eyes. Derek didn’t hold his gaze for long, unwilling to give away the thoughts that occupied his mind.

\-------

Derek spent the rest of the evening avoiding being alone with Stiles, but when, unavoidably, they drove home together, Stiles didn’t ask why Miranda took him aside.

Derek knew that if Stiles wasn’t looking for answers, it was because he already had them. But then suddenly Stiles started talking without even taking a breath,

“So you’re into dudes then?” He asked, staring at Derek.

“Not into  _ dudes _ , Stiles,” Derek replied, staring straight ahead. “But I’m attracted to men, yes.”

“Is that, like, a recent development or…” He trailed off, staring at his fidgeting fingers.

“Not really. I came out to Laura the first time we lived in New York.” He paused, remembering the said occasion, “Since then it hasn’t exactly been a secret.”

Stiles scoffed, lightly, “You sure about that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek asked, one eyebrow arching as he finally looked at Stiles watching him attentively.

“I mean I can come up with a few situations where that could have come up before. So it sounds a little like a secret to me.”

Derek thought about that for a second, uncertain, but Stiles continued, “I just…” He started, but backtracked, “It’d have been easier for me to come out to you if I knew. But I get that you don’t owe me that.”

“It’s not like you ever asked,” Derek said, defensively.

“Oh, yeah cause that’s how it works. I go around asking people what kind of bits they’re into, like I’m asking about the weather.”

“I just don’t talk much about myself, you know that.”

“I know. And it’s really annoying, you know that? It’s like I have to guess the right questions to ask, otherwise I wouldn’t know you at all.”

“You know everything that matters,” Derek blurted out and, for a fraction of a second, he even believed it.

Stiles knew more than most people, he knew Derek’s core, Derek’s past and what made him who he was. Stiles knew about his routine and his books, but there was too much Derek still kept locked inside.

“Clearly I don’t,” Stiles finished, looking out of his window and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

A minute or so later he started again, “Friendships go both ways, you know. I don’t expect you to talk as much as I do because, let’s be honest, is that even possible? But you can talk. When you want to. I want to hear it, whatever it is.”

The raw honesty in Stiles’ voice stirred something within Derek’s stomach and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

And then Derek started talking.

“It was some time after Paige,” He started, and saw Stiles look at him from the corner of his eye. “It was one of those moments where it hits you and you think  _ ‘fuck’. _ ” Stiles nodded with a smile.

“I knew my family would be okay with it, that wasn’t an issue. But I was sixteen and on the basketball team and…” Derek trailed off, not even sure at this point what was the problem his sixteen-year-old self managed to come up with back then.

Stiles still watched him intently, so Derek continued.

“...And then there was Kate.” He said flatly.

Derek heard Stiles swallow and his heartbeat pick up as something sour filled the air.

“She was attractive, she was older and she was into me. Or that’s what I thought,” Derek explained, bitterly. “So I thought that maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with that, at least not for a while.”

Derek paused, took a deep breath and exhaled, as if mentally putting those memories aside. He moved on,

“After, it was easier to be with men for a while. It was when I came out to Laura. I came home one night, woke her up and told her.” He laughed, fondly, “She was actually mad at me for waking her up for that.”

Stiles chuckled.

“But then on the next day,” Derek’s voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, “She made pancakes and bacon for breakfast and teased me about it the whole day.”

“I wish I could’ve met her,” Stiles said, his voice coming out with difficulty.

“You’d have liked her.” Derek looked into Stiles eyes for a second, “She’d have liked you too.”


	5. Wish for Time to Turn Around

Derek starts to whimper before he even registers the howl he heard. It’s his wolf's feeble attempt to respond to that call, to cry for help. The subsequent howl sounds familiar and it’s followed by more gunshots. The hunters - he can recognise by their harsh voices - are yelling, shouting orders at each other.

Derek shuts the sounds out with no energy for anything else.

____________________

“Hi, sorry to bother you, but do you mind if we share a table?”

Derek looked up at the woman who spoke to him. He had his laptop open in front of him, at his usual coffee shop, but this time the place was packed and there were practically no seats available, let alone empty tables. Derek had seen the woman in the cafe a few times before. It seemed that she, like him, went there to work. 

“Sure,” He answered, putting all his scattered papers in a pile.

“I’m Jane, by the way,” She said, extending her hand for him.

“Derek,” He introduced himself, shaking her hand.

Jane sat down, putting her bag on the floor and taking a laptop out of it, and set to work straight away. After a few minutes, Derek even forgot she was there.

\-------

Derek looked at the clock on his computer screen and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked ahead of him and Jane looked up after a second. She was a beautiful woman in an effortless way, messy hair bun and all.

She shot him a polite smile and said, “Feels like it’s time for another coffee.” She stood up, “Can I get you anything?”

Derek stared at her, blinking, taken by surprise.

“Just to say thanks. No strings attached,” She said, with an even brighter smile, “Promise.”

“Um… Thank you… I’ll have whatever you’re having,” He answered, a little shy.

She came back after a few minutes and sat back down, handing him a mocha.

“I hope you like chocolate,” She said, sitting down.

“Don’t trust anyone who doesn’t.” Derek took a sip of his drink.

“Mhm,” She agreed, solemnly and continued, looking around, “It’s quieter now, there are a few tables free.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind the company,” He said, honestly, “That’s if you don’t mind sharing the table.”

She replied with another smile, and Derek was surprised by how easy all that was. He felt attracted to the simplicity of that interaction, the lack of overthinking and baggage he carried everywhere. They struck a light-hearted conversation that had nothing to do with danger and death and the supernatural, and Derek felt lighter for a brief couple of hours.

In the end, she looked at her watch and informed him she needed to go, but hoped to see him around again.

“I know you said no strings attached,” He started, watching Jane hang her bag over her shoulder, “But would you by any chance want to give me your phone number?”

She smiled widely, “Thank god,” She breathed, “I was already regretting that promise.”

Derek chuckled and she wrote her number on a piece of paper. They said their goodbyes and Derek watched her leave, pleased when she looked back just outside the door.

\-------

The next night, lying on his bed in the empty flat, he held his phone in his hands, contemplating if he should or shouldn’t text Jane. He knew it was just a matter of time before things stopped being easy with whomever he decided to give a chance to. But it had been a while since he last ventured into the dating world, and Jane made him feel nice. The sweet illusion that he was just a standard human man writing fiction in a coffee shop.

The decision was taken for him when the phone started buzzing in his hands with Stiles’ name on the screen.

“Stiles?”

“Hey Der,” Stiles said with a wavering voice that made Derek shiver, “Can you come pick me up?”

“Where are you?” He asked, already halfway to the living room.

\-------

“Stiles!” Derek shouted, arriving at the warehouse’s address Stiles had given him.

“I’m here,” Derek heard, low and weak from the corner of the building.

He ran to find Stiles sitting in an alley, pressing his jacket to a bleeding leg.

“Fuck,” Derek breathed out. “What happened?” He asked, frantic, taking his own jacket off and moving to examine the leg.

“The bullet went through. It looks like a clean wound from here.” Stiles hissed when Derek moved his leg a certain way, “Just need to disinfect it and stitch it up.”

“Just?!” Derek snapped his head up, looking intently into Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles looked away.

“I swear to god, Stiles.” Derek slung Stiles’ arm around his neck, “Hold on tight,” He instructed before getting up, lifting Stiles in his arms.

Stiles swallowed a pained noise, before resting his head on Derek’s shoulder and giving a little chuckle.

“You think this is funny?” Derek asked in a growl.

“No, it’s very very serious, Sourwolf,” Stiles replied, fondly, “Just like old times.”

Derek clenched his jaw at the flash of pain in his chest. That’s exactly what he had feared all along. Nearly six years, and many miles away, and his past still managed to catch up with him in the shape of a bleeding Stiles.

He drove like crazy, as Stiles bled on the backseat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital, you’ve lost too much blood.”

“No, take me home. I’ll be fine, you can stitch me up there,” Stiles said, stubbornly.

“What the fuck happened, Stiles?” Derek asked, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“I wasn’t quiet enough.” He sounded a little drowsy.

“Stiles, I’m serious.”

“I was following a lead on that case from a few weeks ago.”

“And where was your partner?”

Stiles remained silent.

“Please tell me you didn’t go alone,” Derek asked, looking at him over the windshield mirror.

Stiles bit his lip, looking at his own hands.

“For fuck’s sake Stiles, do you  _ want  _ to die?! Is that why you called  _ me _ ?”

Derek knew this was probably not the time to be angry and shout at Stiles, but he was angry and desperate. He noticed Stiles had gone too quiet for a moment.

“Stiles? Stiles, stay awake alright?” The anger turned into panic in his voice.

“I’m awake,” Stiles whispered.

“Stiles, if you pass out I’m gonna take you to a hospital, you understand? So stay awake okay?” He pleaded.

“Not gonna pass out. 'm just gonna take a lil’ nap, okay, big guy?”

“Stiles!”

Derek could barely hear Stiles’ heartbeat.

“Shit!” He said, under his breath, turning sharp and changing his route.

\-------

“I’m really sorry about this,” Derek said, staring intently at the cup of coffee in front of him.

“Don’t worry about it, Der,” Valerie said, placing her hand on top of his.

Miranda then entered the room and sat by her wife.

“You did the right thing bringing him here. Jacob said Stiles needs some rest, but he’ll be fine.”

Luckily, Jacob - their emissary, - knew enough healing magic to sort Stiles' injury out. He'd be in pain and he'd need time for his leg to heal fully, but he would be okay.

“Thank you, I owe you one.”

“Don’t be silly.” Valerie shook her head.

“You’d do the same for us,” Miranda said, and Derek nodded. “You can stay in one of the spare bedrooms tonight.”

“Thank you, but if that’s okay with you, I’d rather stay with him.”

“Of course,” Miranda agreed.

“I’ll get you a blanket,” Valerie said, getting up.

\-------

Derek was woken up the next day by the shuffling sound coming from the bed.

“Derek?”

Derek moved like lightning, standing by the bed and holding Stiles’ hand. Stiles hissed, trying to move himself to a sitting position, and Derek helped him, proceeding to take some of his pain away.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s the good shit,” Stiles moaned.

Derek remained silent, jaw clenched, unable yet to rid himself of his frustration. The fear of losing Stiles the night before still angered him.

“Where are we?” The young man asked.

“Miranda’s house,” He replied, coldly, and saw Stiles’ expression change to something awkward.

“What the hell were you thinking, Stiles?” Derek asked, no longer able to hold it in.

“That I could get him this time.”

“By yourself? A werewolf?” Derek took a step back. “Stiles, you’re-”

“I swear to god, if you say I’m human one more time!” He shouted, shocking Derek into silence.

“You know it’s not about that,” Derek said, recomposing himself, “I wouldn’t expect a werewolf to succeed at something like that either.”

“Bullshit!” Stiles bit out. “You’d take your ass down there and do exactly the same. You forget I’ve seen you do it, Derek.”

“You don’t heal like I do,” He said, quieter.

“There it is again, the werewolf thing.”

“Goddammit, Stiles, you nearly  _ died _ last night.”

“Not the first time,” He said, struggling to get up, slowly limping to the change of clothes near the bed.

Derek felt a twist in his stomach at how casually Stiles said that.

“Don’t make me watch you die,” Derek said under his breath, “I don’t need that too in my conscience.”

“Is that why you left?” Stiles said suddenly, turning to him after finishing getting dressed.

“What?” Derek asked, a little confused.

“Is that why you left the pack and Beacon Hills? Not to have to watch us die?”

“What are you talking about, that’s not-”

“Why then? Why did you leave your pack behind?”

“You weren’t  _ my _ pack. You know I wasn’t-”

“Oh spare me,” He cut Derek off, “But thanks for telling me that’s how you feel. It's good to know for next time I need to call someone.” Derek saw tears stubbornly gather in Stiles' eyes, “You turned your back on me once, I’d like to be prepared next time.”

Derek felt the air being punched out of his lungs and his eyes stung. A knot formed in his throat, making it hard to speak.

“Stiles I’m-”

He didn’t know how to defend himself. Secretly, he had feared this moment for years, every time he failed to suppress the guilt of running away. He hoped that the pack didn’t need him, didn’t miss him, didn’t count on him, didn't care. He hoped that Stiles wouldn’t blame him. And now here Derek was, living one of his worst fears, and it felt like a punch to the gut to have been right all this time. He’d failed Stiles, he’d abandoned his pack, he was guilty and Stiles was the judge.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, looking at his feet. “I didn’t think it’d make a difference. I thought you'd be better off without me.”

He saw in his peripheral vision Stiles deflate, abandoning his anger, a bit surprised by his apology.

Stiles exhaled and sat on the bed with difficulty.

“You’re an idiot  _ and _ an asshole, you know that?” Stiles asked, casually. “I know I shouldn’t blame you for wanting out, it’s just…” He trailed off.

“It’s fine.” Derek sat beside him, “I deserve it.”

Stiles shook his head and scratched the back of his neck.

“No, you don’t.” He said, and looked up, meeting Derek’s eyes, “Thanks for coming to get me."

"Any time.”

\-------

“Thank you, again,” Derek said to Miranda.

Stiles was already in the car with his eyes closed when Derek hugged her and Valerie goodbye. He took a step in the direction of his car, but turned back resolutely.

“I uh… Thought about your offer. It's more than I could ever ask for.”

“But,” She prompted him, an understanding smile forming in her lips.

“There are some things I’m not ready to leave behind.”

“Derek, no one's asking you to do that,” Valerie protested, feelingly.

Miranda held her hand and said, “I understand.”

“Thank you. You offered me much more than I deserve.” He replied with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“That’s debatable,” Miranda retorted.

Valerie hugged him again, tighter this time, and he hugged her back with the same intensity.

Derek stepped away and turned to his car, catching Stiles staring and then closing his eyes again.


	6. Bad Habit I Know, But I Need You

Derek hears the same howl again, and a sudden moment of clarity hits him. Derek the wolf is trying its hardest to fight, to stay conscious. But Derek the man is completely okay with letting the cold earth soothe him into his imminent death. He’s had a life with little happiness and a lot of pain, death seems so peaceful in comparison.

He just wishes he wasn’t dying alone.

____________________

Keeping up with tradition, Derek swept all his feelings about his fight with Stiles under the rug. His old therapist would not be happy with him for doing that, and even he himself was a little disappointed with his actions, able to recognise that he was regressing into old habits. But he didn’t know how to stop himself.

Derek could see Stiles digging himself a hole in the ground, giving in to all the self-destructive habits that came with unacknowledged trauma and guilt. But as much as Derek had been better, had recovered from some of his past experiences and had come to terms with most of the rest, self-destruction was still a tempting siren calling for him. A siren in the shape of Stiles. Scented with longing, cheap booze and gunpowder.

Derek couldn’t find ways to bring Stiles back from the edge, he couldn’t remember how he had done it himself, but he remembered Cora and the way she found happiness pushing him forward. Giving him hope. He remembered waking up one morning with enough will to take the first step, but every step along the way was blurry in his memory. Derek wanted to extend a hand to the other man and pull him up, but he was still too weak, too afraid of being pulled down instead. He had already been dragged down way too many times in his past.

\-------

Derek arrived home from his first date with Jane just before midnight and found a sulking Stiles sitting on the couch in front of the TV and a bottle of Jack. He had to stop himself from sighing, sudden tiredness taking over him.

“You alright?” Derek asked, taking his jacket off and placing it on the armrest of the couch.

“I’m superb!” Stiles replied, loud and preceded by a gulp of whiskey from his glass.

Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles slurred voice.

“And how was your date?” He asked.

“It wasn’t,” Stiles replied, grudgingly.

“What? What happened?” Derek kept asking, and sat beside Stiles, placing his keys on the coffee table.

“What happened is that I got stood up, Derek. A perfectly shit ending for a perfectly shit day.”

“Are things not going well at work?” Stiles only scoffed and took another sip of his drink.

“It doesn’t fucking matter anyway. It’s not the first time it happens, it’s not gonna be the last.” He replied, bitterly.

“Stiles…” He started, not really knowing how to proceed.

“Where were you, anyway?” Stiles asked, a croaky high pitch to his voice.

Derek felt like it was not a good time to tell Stiles that he had been on a really nice date with a beautiful woman he met a few days ago.

“Seeing a friend,” He said, and it was technically not a lie, but it was also definitely not the truth.

Stiles didn’t seem to acknowledge his words.

“I’m sorry they didn’t show up. Maybe something came up, these things happen,” He tried to offer some support.

Even though he didn’t love the idea of Stiles dating other people, he hated seeing Stiles like this more. Besides, Derek was also dating and he'd like to keep his hypocrisy to a minimum.

Stiles snorted.

“Easy for you to say, looking like that I bet no one’s ever stood you up once in your life.” Stiles words dragged with the weight of liquor on his tongue.

“You’re right,” Derek said, becoming more and more frustrated by the minute, “They usually skip straight to committing murder and/or dying.”

Stiles looked taken aback by the answer, but by the way that his eyebrows furrowed in his forehead afterwards, Derek sensed he wasn’t going to let go that easily, so he continued,

“Listen, you’re an attractive man. You’re smart and funny, if a little insufferable, and as much as this guy-”

“Woman.” Stiles interrupted, leaning back on the couch.

Derek stared at him. He didn't know why he assumed that Stiles was going out with a man.

“It was a woman. Please continue telling me how smart and funny I am so I can feel better about myself,” He gestured with his hand for Derek to move on.

“See, relentlessly insufferable,” Derek said, before continuing, “As much as  _ this woman _ didn’t show up to your date, I’m sure you’ll have many other dates. You have no difficulty charming people, so really, it’s her loss.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Der,” Stiles deadpanned and finished his drink.

Derek wasn’t completely satisfied with that answer, but he decided to drop it. Stiles could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be. So he leaned back on the couch and stared at the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked.

“Dunno,” Stiles barely answered, “Wasn’t paying attention.”

It looked like a generic action movie.

“Do you mean it?” Stiles suddenly asked, with a weak voice.

“What?” Derek looked at him, confused. Stiles kept his eyes locked on the TV. 

“Do you find me attractive?”

“You know the answer to that,” Derek replied, feeling a lump in his throat.

“I’m asking,” Stiles stated, fixing his eyes now on Derek’s

Derek swallowed with difficulty and nearly convinced himself to tell a lie.

He sighed and said, “Yes.”

He opted for the truth, even if it was barely able to leave the protection of his lips.

Stiles nodded minutely, turning back to the TV. Derek knew at that moment that Stiles was trying to hide his own desires towards him. 

Derek closed his eyes for a few moments, trying to calm himself down. It was one thing to acknowledge what he thought about Stiles in his head, but saying it out loud, to Stiles of all people, was something different altogether.

Derek knew that giving in to his feelings for Stiles would mean mutual destruction and he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t give the other man new reasons to despair. Just because Derek knew Stiles was attracted to him, it didn’t mean that Stiles was ready to know that his flatmate, his friend, the man he blamed for leaving him to deal with pain and grief alone when he was still a teenager, was in love with him. Stiles deserved better, and Derek wouldn’t take that away from him.

After a few minutes, Derek felt Stiles get up from the couch in silence and leave the living room. The faint smell of honey following him.

Not even two minutes later he returned and Derek heard Stiles stop in front of him, feeling Stiles' presence just one step away. The intoxicating scent of him masked by too much booze and anxiety.

Derek opened his eyes and met honey brown staring at him. He could barely breathe under the concentrating gaze of the younger man.

“You already know that I’m attracted to you, right?” Stiles blurted out, barely a question, in a low wavering voice.

Derek felt a cold wave hit his body, suddenly paralysing him. He couldn’t speak, so he nodded faintly, his curiosity to see where that would take them getting the better of him.

“What if I were to do something about it?” He asked, moving closer and sitting on Derek’s lap with one leg on each side of him and one hand on each side of his head.

“Stiles…” He whispered, incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

Was this it? Did Stiles feel the same way about him? Was this the way Stiles decided to reveal his feelings for Derek? Was this the moment that sent Derek’s resolve out of the window and forced him to give in to what he wanted the most?

“I mean, we both find each other attractive and we’re both single,” Stiles paused, and Derek’s heart tightened, understanding slowly dawning on him. “I don’t see why we can’t have some fun together.”

_ Oh. _

Derek’s face must have done something out of his control, or it was his lack of answer, because Stiles started again. But he seemed to misunderstand what part of that proposal had painted Derek’s eyes with disappointment.

“You know, no strings attached,”  _ No. _ “It doesn’t have to be complicated,”  _ No. _ “Just hot, steamy-”

“No,” Derek said, finding his resolve again.

If he was going to let Stiles ruin him, it wouldn’t be for fun.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings, if that’s the issue.”

Every new sentence was another punch in the gut for Derek. He struggled to keep his voice even, hyper-aware of Stiles’ warm weight on his lap.

“You’re drunk.”

Stiles’ worry seemed to ease. Derek knew that meant trouble.

“Not too drunk.” He cocked his head to the side and continued, “If you’re worried about consent, I assure you I’m not gonna regret this,” He said with a smirk.

He shuffled a little closer, prompting Derek to press Stiles’ legs in place. Stiles was centimetres from his face.

“Not when it’s with you.” He ground his hips down and Derek growled, eyes flashing blue.

Stiles seemed to misunderstand Derek’s reaction for anger, which was enough to throw him off for a second. He looked at Derek now uncertain, probably considering that he might have misjudged the situation and crossed one too many of Derek's boundaries. He suddenly looked vulnerable, reminding Derek that Stiles was a man carrying too much pain and a heart too big for his own good.

Derek’s eyes turned back to their hazel-green colour and the pain he felt turned briefly into a dull, aching sadness. He felt that he knew what led Stiles to approach him and he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. He knew how it was to seek comfort in willing arms, and eyes that never hung around long enough to see the cracks. He knew how it felt to be lonely, to settle for less because the ideal was just too far away from reach.

It occurred to Derek that if he’d loved Stiles any less, maybe he’d have been able to give in to him. He'd have been able to provide the little comfort Stiles sought so desperately. But he loved that man too much. He wouldn’t be able to have Stiles in his arms and then let go.

Stiles wasn’t someone he could come back from.

Derek swallowed with difficulty and moved one of his hands to touch Stiles’ face, gently.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I can’t do this,” He said, with a low and soft tone.

Derek saw how Stiles deflated, smelling like sadness and guilt.

“Not your type?” He asked, looking away and sporting a self-deprecating smile.

Derek sighed, tired and weak-willed. He placed his forehead on Stiles’ chest and closed his eyes, forcing himself to inhale the pain the other man was feeling.

“Is this really what you want? Casual sex... Me...” Derek shook his head lightly, trailing off. “I can’t be your distraction.”

It was enough of the truth, but once more none of the important details left Derek’s mouth.

Stiles moved from Derek’s lap and sat beside him

“Well, that’s a shame… The sex would’ve been amazing,” He tried joking, but it fell flat.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Derek tried to smile and failed short, then asked, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Always am,” He said the rehearsed answer Derek had heard many times before.

In fact, Stiles said it so often that his heart didn’t even skip a beat these days. It didn’t even come out as a lie anymore.

Derek squeezed Stiles’ knee, got up and started walking in the direction of his bedroom.

“Derek?” Derek turned around to face him. “I hope she’s nice.”

Derek blinked a couple of times, but Stiles then faced the TV again, pouring himself another drink.

He wasn’t able to sleep at all that night, only shutting his eyes when the sun started to peek through the blinds in his bedroom.

\-------

Derek was woken up the next day close to 11 am by the smell of bacon and pancakes coming from the kitchen. He moved slowly, still not fully awake, pushing the events of the night before to the back of his mind.

The image of Stiles quietly making breakfast, with dishevelled hair and loose sleeping clothes, always managed to make Derek crave a sort of domesticity he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager, waiting for his Dad to serve breakfast to him and his sisters, whistling all the while.

Derek took a mental picture of it before making himself known.

“Morning,” He said, moving around the counter and grabbing himself a mug.

“Hey.” Stiles eyed him before moving his attention back to the stove.

Derek served himself some coffee and absentmindedly topped up Stiles’, before moving to sit by the counter. A few seconds later he heard Stiles take a deep breath.

“Distractions are all I have these days,” Stiles said, unprompted, still facing the stove.

Derek didn’t say anything. As usual, he wasn’t going to bring the subject up unless Stiles talked first.

“I was in love with Lydia for about half of my life. When we got together I thought that was it. I had finally gotten the girl of my dreams and we had the rest of our lives ahead of us. And then...”

“You’re still in love with her,” Derek stated, heart-clenching.

Stiles laughed, softly, sadly.

“I’m not,” He said, and it was the truth, “And that’s what fucks me up.” He turned to face Derek, “I knew what love was, I had it, I was in love with the most amazing woman I have ever met for years and then suddenly it was gone. I could feel it slipping away and there was nothing I could do about it. When I spent days away from her I didn’t miss her the way I knew I should. I didn't care when she asked for space. I couldn’t make time for her because of college or work or whatever I had that week…” Stiles faced the stove again, turning it off and placing the last pancake on the plate.

Derek smelled the salty water in Stiles’ eyes.

“When she said she wanted to break up, I was actually relieved. I don’t remember when I stopped wanting to fight for us, and I was glad that she didn’t want to either.” He sniffed, wiping at his face. “So I don’t trust myself to love again. In the end, I think I never knew what love was in the first place. I can’t do it, it doesn’t matter what I think I feel, it’s bound to pass. If it didn’t last with Lydia, after the years I spent obsessing over her, it won’t last with someone else. And I tried, you know. But eventually, there’s always too many secrets, too many lies, and I just can’t let them in because who’d choose to be part of a life like this?”

Stiles placed the pancakes and bacon on the counter and sat down in front of Derek, dejected.

“I guess that’s why I always end up falling for the unattainable.” He paused, staring Derek in the eyes, “It’s easier when it’s just me getting disappointed. So I’m okay to keep the distractions. But I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

Derek wanted to argue, say that all that was bullshit, that he’d love again, that obsessing with the idea of someone for years wasn't the same as consistently loving someone for who they were, as getting to know each and every flaw and still choosing them. Maybe his thing with Lydia dragged on for so long unrequited that somewhere along the way it turned into Stiles wanting to prove a point. And when he ‘got the girl’, as he said, that point was proven true enough.

But Derek didn’t know how to argue without revealing too much of his feelings for Stiles. Here Stiles was, telling him that even if he ever came to love Derek, he wouldn’t act on it, that it wouldn't last. That was all the confirmation Derek needed to bury his feelings deep in his chest and never let them out.

Derek would learn to live with the longing. He'd ignore it until it merged with the pain of everything else that was taken from him way too soon. Because, unlike Stiles, Derek didn’t know how it was to fall out of love with somebody. So Stiles was in his heart to stay, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Is this an apology breakfast?” Derek asked, bottling up his feelings the best that he could.

“Is it working?”

“We’ll see.” He grabbed one of the pancakes and put it whole in his mouth.

Stiles stared at him, expectantly. Derek nodded.

“It’s a start.”

Stiles smiled and patted himself on the back, but the sadness lingered, unwavering.


	7. Hurt Me More than Once

Derek hears his name shouted through the woods, but still, that voice is distant. He hears it again and thinks he recognises that voice. More gunshots carry through from the same place where that voice comes from. Then he hears curses and something falling to the ground in the distance, and his name one more time.

That voice inexplicably causes a wave of regret to wash over him as his consciousness slips away.

____________________

Derek was late for dinner. Miranda had called for an important pack meeting about a series of werewolves disappearances around the country in the past months. Derek had heard about it before, but it seemed like it was already being dealt with. Apparently he was wrong, because whatever was causing the disappearances had now arrived in the state of New York, and Miranda wanted everyone to watch their backs while the pack, together with others in the region, tried to solve it.

The meeting had lasted longer than expected, so Derek barely had time to take a shower and get ready between putting the lasagna in the oven and Jane arriving. He gathered all of Stiles’ files scattered on the coffee table and set them to the side.

“Hi,” She said with a smile, standing in front of Derek at the door.

“Hey,” He replied, hair still dripping wet and towel in his hand. “Sorry, I’m running a little late.”

He closed the door behind her.

“Don’t worry about it,” She said, standing in the middle of the living room and looking around. “I brought wine and dessert,” Jane announced, handing him a bag.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to.” Derek took the bag and pulled her in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

He heard her heart rate pick up momentarily, and it was her turn to pull him in for a kiss, this time on the lips.

“It’s good to see you too,” Derek said as they parted. “I’ll put these in the kitchen and I just need a few minutes to finish getting ready. Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back.”

Jane nodded and sat on the couch. Derek ran into the kitchen, put the cheesecake in the fridge and opened the bottle of wine. He finished drying his hair, taking a few minutes to style it properly. By the time he was done, the oven’s timer went off and he had to run to the kitchen again to turn it off and take the lasagna out.

“Dinner is ready,” He said, entering the living room.

He smelt anger in the room, making him confused. Jane sat on the couch with one of the files open in her hands, which only increased his confusion.

“Jane?”

She lifted her eyes, staring at him coldly.

“What’s this?” She lifted the folder, dragging Derek’s attention to it.

“What’s what?” He took a cautious step closer.

“This, Derek!” She threw the folder back on the coffee table and stood up.

Derek looked at the pictures of Jane and reports as they scattered on the table. Confusion still high, but slowly being replaced by anger and fear as he started to understand what was happening.

“My flatmate works for the FBI.” He said dumbly.

Derek could barely come to terms with the situation himself, let alone explain it to someone else. He couldn’t believe Stiles would have done something like that.

“So you asked him to do a background check on me?!” She yelled.

“Of course not!”

“God, I knew you had some trust issues, Derek, but this? This is fucked up.”

Her words stung.

“I didn’t ask him to look you up. I didn’t even know this file was here, or even existed in the first place.”

She seemed torn between believing him and not giving him a chance to defend himself.

“You have to believe me,” He pleaded.

“Why?” She asked, defiant. “You’re evasive, you never give straight answers, and I always feel like you’re keeping me at arm's length.”

“We barely know each other!” He said, defensively.

“Exactly!” She threw her arms up, in a motion that always reminded him of Stiles.

Stiles was the last person he wanted to think about right now.

“I barely know you, so why should I trust you when I come to your house and find that you have a file on me lying around like a fucking magazine?”

Derek couldn’t find a satisfactory answer to that. In her place, he wouldn’t believe him either. He scented the air involuntarily and noticed that the anger had been replaced by sadness. No, disappointment. She liked him, or at least until that moment she had liked him.

“Because I'm telling the truth,” He said, quietly, already giving up, and saw something change in her eyes.

Pity? Understanding? Compassion.

“I’m sorry, Derek.” She really was. “I don’t think I can look past this. Even if you didn’t do it, I… I can’t be okay with this.”

“I’m sorry too,” He said, looking her in the eyes.

She left the flat without saying another word. Derek looked at the open file on the coffee table uninterested and then left the flat himself. He needed to clear his mind and went for a run.

The run only served to morph his anger into frustration. He still couldn’t believe Stiles would betray his trust like this. It felt too much like sabotage. He felt hurt yet again, by the person he trusted the most in the world.

Derek wanted to understand Stiles’ reasons, he desperately needed to. So he returned home, lasagna, wine and the files still untouched. He felt like calling Cora or Valerie, but he didn’t want to explain what had happened to anyone. Not yet, not before he had a chance to ask Stile why he had done it. So he sat on his bed and waited for Stiles to come home.

\-------

Derek heard Stiles’ heartbeats in the corridor first, then his key on the door, then his footsteps halting briefly by the kitchen door and finally stopping in the living room.

Derek entered the room with his arms crossed, keeping his face expressionless and his emotions at bay. Stiles looked at him, chewing on his lower lip, emanating fear and guilt as he puzzled the pieces together.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles started, but trailed off when Derek shook his head.

“Not this time,” He said, coldly, ignoring the guilt and the sadness that grew in the room. “Why?” He asked.

“I wanted to be sure,” Stiles answered, not looking at him.

“Sure of what?” Derek asked again, frustrated.

He unfolded his arms and moved closer into the room.

“That she could be trusted!” Stiles said, exasperated, as if he was saying something obvious.

“So you decided to do a full background check on her? There wasn’t another way? You couldn’t let me get to know her and make up my own mind?!”

Stiles scoffed, “Please, Derek. It’s not like you have a perfect track record on trusting the right people,” Stiles said, bitterly.

“What did you just say?” Derek asked, feeling Stiles’ words sting him deeply.

“Oh, come on, you said it yourself. They have a tendency to end up being murderers,” Stiles said, voice high as he desperately tried to justify himself.

Derek took a step back, feeling his heart tighten.

“It was a self-deprecating joke, Stiles! It doesn’t give you the right to use it against me!”

“I was just trying to help!” Stiles threw his arms up and the gesture made Derek’s chest tighten.

“Bullshit!” Derek yelled. “If you wanted to help you wouldn’t have left your papers around when you  _ knew _ she’d be coming over! You’d have given her, given  _ me _ , the benefit of the doubt!”

Derek stopped a couple of feet away from Stiles, breathing heavily. For a moment they only stared at each other. There was so much unsaid between them that at this point Derek didn’t even know where to go next. Piles of baggage towering over them, making the space small, claustrophobic. He felt his skin burning as if his wolf wanted to come out, too uncomfortable in his human body.

Derek wanted to give in to animal instincts, to hurt, to claim, to make Stiles love him, to forget every human emotion he ever felt and at the same time to be consumed by them all.

His eyes must have been set on their steely blue because Stiles was calling his name and holding his arms, worried. Derek flinched away.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt again,” Stiles whispered, letting his hands fall by his sides.

Derek scoffed, feeling his eyes burn for a whole different reason.

“Like you haven't been hurting me,” He said, without thinking.

Stiles took a step back, mouth falling open.

“I don’t know what to do about this, Stiles. I see you only digging deeper and I don’t know how to get you out of it.”

“It’s not your job to do that,” He bit out.

“I know it’s not, but you’re dragging me down with you.”

“And how exactly am I dragging you down with me, Derek?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms defensively. But the increased guilt in the air betrayed his facade.

Stiles wasn’t a bad person, if he hurt Derek, it was unknowingly done. But how could Derek explain that he loved Stiles such that everything Stiles did affected him? How could he tell Stiles that his words had burned Derek too many times in the past few months? How could he impose on Stiles all his feelings at this moment?

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t ask anything from Stiles that the young man couldn’t give.

He looked Stiles in the eyes, holding back his wolf and letting his eyes shift back to hazel-green. He shook his head lightly, letting Stiles know he wouldn’t answer that question. The young man frowned.

“What? Is the FBI work suddenly too dangerous for a weak ass human?" Stiles started.

"That's not-"

"Or is it the fact that I drink too much? Or sleep around too much?" He kept pushing.

"Stiles-"

"No Derek, please enlighten me. Are you suddenly too good to face all that because you figured your shit out?!"

"Stop-"

"Because I fucking stuck around when you were getting shot every other day and falling apart at least once a week. You were living in an abandoned train, for fuck's sake, and now you think you can lecture me on how I should-"

"Shut up, Stiles!" Derek growled loudly, eyes flashing blue again.

They stood in silence, staring each-other down with wide eyes until Derek moved around Stiles and picked up his jacket.

"Are you fucking leaving?" Stiles asked, incredulously.

"I can't be in the same place as you, now."

Derek could barely contain his wolf within him after hearing all that Stiles threw on his face. He needed to be alone soon or he’d regret it.

“You just keep on running, huh,” Stiles bit at him, more out of despair than out of anger.

At that, something within Derek snapped. Holding the door open like the coward he was, he said, not looking back. 

“If you can’t love me,” He started, and swallowed thickly, “The least you could do is let someone else try.”

Derek didn’t see Stiles’ eyes widen, he didn’t smell the guilt in the air tenfold and the sickly panic that covered every other emotion in the room.

He only kept walking, and then he ran.

\-------

Derek returned home only three days later, expecting Stiles to be at work.

He still didn’t know what to do next, but decided he’d follow Stiles lead. If the younger man wanted to talk it out, Derek would talk it out. If he wanted to forget what was said, Derek would pretend to forget. He would do whatever Stiles needed him to do.

He had been right, Stiles wasn’t home when he arrived.

Neither was any of his things.

Derek felt panic grow in his chest. Its scent mixed with Stiles’ guilt still lingering in the air. He went to Stiles' room, only to find it empty. He picked his phone up from the kitchen counter, where it had been for the past three days, and dialled, standing hopeless in the living room. It went straight to voicemail. He spotted an envelope with his name on the coffee table and put his phone down.

Derek sat down and picked up the envelope. He opened it carefully.

_ You were right _

_ I won’t drag you down with me anymore _

_ I should've paid more attention _

_ sorry I have to leave like this _

_ though it’s probably for the best _

_ guess I’m running away this time, huh _

_ you have to appreciate the irony of it _

_ did you feel like this too when you left BH? _

_ I thought it’d be easier _

_ and harder too _

_ I’ll stop wasting more of your time now _

_ truth is at this point I’m just stalling _

_ I’ll go now _

_ bye, Der. _

_ ps.: there’s enough here for the bills for the next couple of months. _

Derek cursed under his breath and picked his phone up. He called Stiles’ number again, but again it went straight to voicemail.

So it did the next five times Derek called it.

And the next five days.


	8. Couldn’t We Have Grown Together?

Derek comes back around when the voice calling his name sounds much closer. It reminds him of Stiles’. Loud and panicked, desperate and full of feeling.

Great, right when he thought he had let go of that crushing feeling, his last emotion before he finally dies will be guilt. But maybe it serves him right, he thinks. It seems to make sense that a man who was shaped by guilt and regret will have these emotions carry him to the afterlife.

Maybe he doesn’t really want to die yet. What a terrible thing to realise at this moment.

He is unconscious once more.

____________________

“I want you to tell me about the new book.” Derek’s therapist, a middle-aged kitsune called Yukio asked.

Derek shrugged, “It’s been slow going. There’s not much to say at this point.”

“Are you having difficulty writing?”

“I guess.” Derek looked away, at the window. “I don’t know what to write about, these days.”

“Have you tried contacting him again?”

Derek looked back at his therapist, staring her straight in the eyes.

It had been three months since Stiles left, and two months and two weeks since Derek returned to therapy. He had tried to call Stiles several times during the first month, then at least once a week in the second month. He even tried calling Scott once, but the alpha werewolf didn’t pick up, so Derek didn’t try again. After that, he stopped trying.

Derek shook his head, “Before I knew he left, I thought to myself that I’d follow his lead on how to deal with… everything. So if this is what he needs right now, I should probably respect that.”

“And have you thought about what you need?” She asked next.

“Yeah.”

Derek had thought about it. He just hadn’t got to any conclusion yet.

Part of him wanted to belong to a pack again. Part of him wanted to leave and start again. And another part, the bigger part, which he tried hard to silence, kept yelling at him that he needed Stiles.

Even with all the bad moments, it had only been in the young man’s presence that Derek started considering that he could be happy once more.

“I think he was right.”

The therapist raised her eyebrows at that.

“I did run away. I think I’ve never stopped. Not really.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve gotten better. Cora, Val, Miranda, even Stiles, they made me better. But I’m not… I don’t…”

“Why are you feeling guilt?” She asked, scenting the air.

“I don’t know,” He lied.

“Derek.”

“Because I don’t deserve their help!” He practically shouted at her, giving in to his frustration, “Because Stiles left and I can’t stop thinking that I deserve it! Because I should spend the rest of my life running, after everything I’ve done! I shouldn’t get to be ‘better’, not when Laura didn’t get a chance to fully recover!”

Derek noticed his claws were digging into the armrests. His eyes burned blue.

“Would you say what you just said to Stiles?” Yukio asked, catching Derek by surprise.

“What?”

“He’s killed innocents, hasn’t he?” She asked, casually.

“He was possessed, it’s different,” Derek replied, angrily.

“Was it not his fault to let the nogitsune in?”

“No! He’s human. He was seventeen! How could you suggest that was his fault?”

“You tell me, Derek. You were sixteen when Kate Argent killed your family. Why is that your fault?”

Derek felt like he was suffering from whiplash. He blinked at her dumbly, breathing fast.

He could argue that he was guilty of more than that. He was guilty for Paige, for Laura and Erica and Boyd. But he was able to find a pattern in his line of thinking. He wouldn’t dare blame Stiles for any of it if the human had been in his place. It wouldn’t have been Stiles fault, he could see it clear as day. So why was it so easy, so right, to blame himself, and only himself, for all that happened to his loved ones?

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, before Yukio spoke again.

“Next time you think you don’t deserve to get better, I want you to think if you’d say the same to the people you love.”

Derek nodded, frowning, and got up.

“Thanks,” He said, holding the doorknob.

“I’ll see you next week.” She replied with a smile.

\-------

Three months after that, werewolves were still going missing and Derek found himself in one of Miranda’s pack meetings.

“We’re still trying to find them,” Miranda started, “We have nearly every pack in the city actively trying to stop them.”

“Do you know what’s happening to the ones that disappear?” A young man, - Kyle? - asked, visibly annoyed.

Mirandabarely hesitated before saying, “We've been told different things during our investigations, many of them simple guesses. I don't want to give you wrong information,” Miranda replied, vaguely.

Derek tended to keep quiet during Miranda's pack meetings since he was only just a guest, so he didn't point out that she hadn't answered the question directly.

“That’s not very helpful, is it?” Kyle - or was it Tyler? - said as his frustration grew.

“I know this is frustrating. Many packs in the country have suffered losses, and we are all scared. But we must be careful above everything else. We must think before we act, so we don’t lose any loved ones ourselves. And we’re doing everything we can.”

Miranda looked at her mother in the back of the room, and the older woman nodded minutely.

“Until this situation is over, please don’t wander off alone,” Miranda said, “If you need a run, do so in a group or at least in pairs. Don’t go too far out of town if you can avoid it, and do not travel by yourself at night. That's when the abductions tend to happen. The house is open to all of you, and Valerie and I are available to help with anything.”

She paused for a while, waiting for any further questions.

“If that’s all, you can go now. Thank you.”

Slowly, people started to get up and move around, leaving the room and talking to one another.

Derek stayed behind, perching on a wall with his arms folded. When he was left with only Valerie and Miranda in the room, he closed the door and approached them, knowing that every room in the house was soundproof.

“What’s happening to the people taken?” He asked.

Miranda sighed.

“They’re being hunted,” she said with a sickly tone, “For sport.”

“What do you mean, ‘for sport’?” Derek asked, equal measures confused and disgusted.

“They capture someone and then let them go in the middle of the woods, where a bunch of hunters try to capture and kill them.” She explained, sitting down.

Valerie held her hand. Derek felt sick.

“Hunters are doing that?” He asked, incredulous even if he never really trusted the hunters’ code.

Miranda shook her head and said, “They were hunters once, but got kicked out for their misconduct. Now they have a little business of their own, apparently.”

“They pay to hunt us down like animals, as if it’s an expensive hobby,” Valerie added.

Derek struggled to keep himself from growling.

"I hope you understand why I didn't want to disclose that information to everyone in the pack." She looked up at him.

He nodded, and asked, between gritted teeth, “What can I do to help?"

\-------

It had now been nine months since Stiles left to god knows where, and for the past three months, Derek had been helping Miranda with the disappearances in the region. He started travelling a lot from city to city, meeting with different packs, gathering all the information they had, finding patterns in the abductions and reporting back everything that he deemed useful.

In his search for leads, Derek learned that this operation wasn’t new and went beyond the U.S. Nearly every pack he contacted could tell him of a pack member mysteriously going missing at some point in the past twenty years. He called Cora after that and she told him to call Isaac. It had been an awkward conversation, but a few days later Isaac called back from Paris with valuable information for him.

A week later Isaac texted him, asking for updates on the case and how Derek was doing. Derek asked Isaac how he had been, and now they texted regularly.

Sometimes he would stay for longer periods with a pack, join them in training sessions and run with them. He made friends along the way and found out he was good with teenagers. His life experience made him used to the mood swings and heightened emotions teen wolves tend to display. Stiles would laugh at him if he found out, considering the disaster Derek had been with his own betas.

Derek didn’t try to contact Stiles.

He’d driven as far as Florida before returning to New York City. In a week he’d fly out to Washington DC to discuss the situation with the local hunters under the protection of the local pack.

He would be running the meetings with the one and only Chris Argent, who had contacted him at some point in North Carolina. Derek was hesitant at first, but it would be useful to have a hunter working by his side, and since Allison’s death, Chris was the only hunter he’d ever trust.

His “pack-less” status ended up working in his favour, since every time he arrived at an alpha’s territory, he would simply adapt to whatever rules and requests each pack deemed necessary, with no need to worry about overcomplicated pack politics. He had always hated those anyway.

The time of the trip had been planned for a couple of days after the full moon for obvious reasons, so he had a few days ahead of him to go to therapy, write his book and go for runs with Valerie to get rid of his pent up energy.

\-------

Derek and Valerie stopped running when they reached her car, panting, somewhere far away from the noise of the big city and close to the ocean.

“Fuck, I needed that,” Valerie said, hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

“Mhm,” Derek agreed, putting on a t-shirt, and picked up two bottles of water from the car.

He perched on the bonnet and offered a bottle to his friend. She took it from him and he opened his bottle, draining it instantly.

“I bet I’ll win next time.” She said, after draining her bottle.

Derek scoffed, “You can try.”

He smiled, secretly thinking that she definitely could. She stared at him for a moment, a curious expression on her face.

“How’ve you been?”

Derek shrugged, looking at the slowly setting sun, “I’m fine. Better, I think.”

“I’m glad,” She smiled, and continued, a bit more serious, “You know we can talk about it, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

After a silent minute, Derek said, “I miss him.”

Valerie reached for his hand, and he let her hold it.

“I was so sure we had nothing to offer each other that I didn’t even try to give him what I could. He said he couldn’t love again and I didn’t even argue. I should have.” Derek said, quietly.

“You were afraid.” She said, offering a compassionate justification for his actions.

“I was,” He agreed, less compassionate.

“Was he worth getting hurt for?” She asked, nonjudgmental, as if she already knew the answer.

At that question, Derek smiled and looked at her.

“Yeah. Stiles is always worth it.”

She smiled too and squeezed his hand once.

“It’s gonna be dark soon. We should go.” She moved away from him.

Derek opened the car door as Valerie put on a shirt over her sports bra. He thought he heard a faint noise in the distance, a humming of sorts that unsettled him.

“Val?” He said, and she looked up, “Do you feel that?”

Valerie looked around, trying to pick up on what he was feeling.

He scented the air and something clicked in his brain. Panic took over.

He thought quickly and moved fast, away from the water and closer to Valerie. He grabbed her by the upper arms, lifted her and threw her with all his strength in the direction of the water. She yelled as she hit the ground on the shallow end, and he felt the mountain ash circle close around him.

“What the fuck?!” Derek heard her shout as she stood up with difficulty.

He kept his eyes on the tree line, focusing on the sounds. They were closer than he expected. He should have been able to hear them sooner.

Valerie tried to approach him, but hissed when the magic wall of the mountain ash stopped her.

“Derek…” She called, with a pained voice.

“You have to run, Val,” Derek said, not looking at her, “Swim as much as you can and don’t stop running until you’re home. Got it?”

A bullet hit Derek’s leg at the same time that another scraped Valerie’s waist.

“Go!” He half-shouted half-growled, as he fell on all fours and shifted into his wolf form.

Derek heard Valerie’s hesitant steps moving away in the water, and at the sound of another shot, she started to run.

He leapt at the first man who appeared in the tree line. Two darts hit him a fraction of a second before he ripped the man’s throat out.

Seconds later he was out.

\-------

When Derek woke up again, he was in a cage in a dark room, without food and with little water. He felt the pull of the approaching full moon stronger every night, but for some reason, as much as he tried, he couldn’t shift back to his human form.

He could hear people coming and going outside his door at different hours of the day, and there was always someone guarding it.

Two days later, a man entered the room for the first time. Derek thought he looked familiar, but his wolf eyes worked differently from his human eyes and it was dark. The man was tall, with blond hair and pitch-black eyes. He looked like he was in his fifties and had a strange smell that Derek couldn’t identify as quite human.

The man knelt a few feet away from the cage and Derek snarled at him.

“That won’t work here,” He said, but Derek didn’t stop. “That’s what you get for snooping around. A wolf without a pack, like you, should know to keep your head down.”

He then shot Derek twice with darts.

Derek growled and howled and a moment later he was passed out.

\-------

Next time he woke up, Derek had torch lights on him, a voice telling him to run and two bullets hitting his hind leg.


	9. In Case You Don’t Live Forever, Let Me Tell You the Truth

He feels his animal body being dragged out roughly from under the tree by his hind legs. The roots scratch at his wounds and he whimpers. He tries to open his eyes, tries to bite and get rid of the hands holding him down. They’re heavy, cold, leathery hands. They quickly let go of him, only to return a second or two later, warm and soft, handling him with care now.

“Derek, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

But Derek can hear the lack of conviction in that voice. It carries fear, desperation so strong even Derek's half-conscious mind feels choked by it.

“Derek, you hang in there. Don’t die on me, okay? Just… just  _ please _ ...”

He knows that he’s supposed to know that voice. It soothes him every time it says his name. But the way it pleads now, the pain it carries, makes Derek want to comfort them. He wants to say that everything is going to be okay. That soon he’ll feel peaceful in a way he hasn’t felt since the death of his family.

Derek feels a strong pair of arms lift him and something settles within him.

At least he's not going to die alone.

____________________

Derek wakes up in his human form in a warm bed in a dark room. The moonlight showers him through the window. His throat is dry, his mind is hazy and his body is sore. He's wearing only a loose pair of shorts under the blankets and, looking around briefly, he spots a change of clothes on a chair by the bedside table.

He takes several minutes to make sense of what happened. He remembers being hunted for sport, several hunters delighted by the seldom opportunity to track a werewolf in full shift. He remembers hurting, hiding, being scared and wishing for death.

Then he remembers a desperate voice reaching him, and being carried by someone. He concentrates harder and feels the ghost of caring, gentle hands carefully cleaning and dressing his wounds. The faint smell of relief and worry still lingering in the room from when that took place.

Derek closes his eyes and tries to scent the air to find out where exactly he is. He can smell coffee, sugary sweets and sadness. It smells so familiar it hurts his lungs and tightens his heart. As far as Derek is concerned, apart from the deep sadness he can almost taste, that's the smell of home. Though back then, before they inevitably pushed each-other away one too many times, Stiles had already always smelled a little sad. So maybe that scent is part of home too.

Derek opens his eyes again and gets up quietly when he hears a couple of cupboard doors being shut in another room in the apartment. Derek quickly runs a hand over the neatly dressed wounds, still healing on his side, his legs and his left wrist. He gets dressed and slowly walks to the kitchen, where he knows Stiles is making coffee.

Derek desperately feels the need to see him, and part of him wonders, still, if he has died and this is his version of heaven. But then he decides that that isn’t possible, because, in his version of paradise, there is no room for Stiles’ sadness.

He stands a few steps away from Stiles, out of his field of vision, silently observing every detail he can of the man he has missed so dearly and for so long.

Stiles' movements are slow and half-hearted, and he seems distracted, still not noticing Derek's presence. He turns and jumps, a little startled. He stares at Derek, eyes wide and lips half parted.

Derek watches as he swallows, and he wants to hide. He wants to go back to sleep, to go back to the warm bed heavily impregnated with Stiles' scent.

He can't speak, his mouth is dry and he doesn't know what to say anyway. So it's good that Stiles breaks the silence first.

"Thank god, you woke up." He says breathily, then puts his mug back on the counter and takes a step in Derek's direction.

"Yeah," Derek’s voice is husky as he forces the words out, "Thanks for uh… saving my life. Again."

Stiles looks away and bites his lip, and Derek thinks his eyes look a little glossy. The younger man shakes his head and turns around. He places both his hands on the counter and lets his head hang low, wiping at his eyes with his sleeves.

"Do you want some coffee? Or water? You must be starving. Scott bought some food yesterday and there are some leftovers. Or I could make something. Or maybe you'd rather sleep some more?” He asks.

Stiles turns around again, before continuing,

“Sorry, I don't really know what to do now. What do you need? I'll do it. Anything. I have some meat in the freezer, and you can also take a shower if you want, not that you need one, but you know, if you want to."

Derek smiles a little even if Stiles sounds frantic and avoids his gaze. He's speaking fast, as he usually does, and that's better than silence. It's familiar.

"I'm sorry," Derek hears, and there's silence again. "I'm so, so sorry." Stiles looks Derek in the eyes, shame emanating from him. "For everything." And Derek instantly knows everything that Stiles' is apologising for.

"Stiles, you don't have-"

"But I do, Derek," He cuts the werewolf off, "I really, really do."

"I tried to call," Derek says.

If this is what Stiles wants to do, Derek will comply. He's tired and he knows better this time around. Once more his brush with death was too close. He can still taste the regret he felt in what he thought were his last minutes. All the words he didn't say, all the feelings he expertly locked inside, burning in his throat.

"I was assigned to London," Stiles says.

Derek raises his eyebrows, surprised.

"They needed someone with supernatural experience and a death wish." He continues, and Derek frowns. "I was there for six months. I even saw Jackson and Ethan a few times. Seeing them as happy as they are was a slap in the face."

Derek assents, not knowing what to say to that. He feels numb, listening to Stiles speak. He'd been in another continent and Derek hadn't even known.

"I get it now," Stiles says.

"What do you get?"

"Why you left Beacon Hills behind." He pauses, but Derek says nothing.

There were too many reasons for him to leave Beacon Hills when he did. He can't pinpoint what was the breaking point, but it was hope that made him leave. Hope for something better.

"'Once the abyss looks back, you have to try hard to look away'." He smiles, quoting a line in Derek's latest book. "We've both been through hell, Der. I got so used to walking around in it, getting to know my demons and how to live among them, that I missed the way out." Stiles swallows with difficulty, before continuing, "I don't know how many exits you missed, but I'm glad you found one in the end."

"Have  _ you _ found one yet?" Derek asks.

Stiles looks away, and then straight into his eyes.

“I’m seeing someone,” He says, and Derek’s heart breaks. It must show on his face because Stiles rushes in saying, “A therapist. I’m seeing a therapist. I’m going to therapy. My therapist is the only person I’m seeing. In a professional help kind of way, not the… other thing. That’d be unethical.”

Derek can’t stop himself from feeling relief.

“Not that I would want it anyway if it wasn’t. Unethical, that is.” Stiles continues, “I don’t want to sleep with my therapist, is what I’m say-”

“I’ve missed you.” Derek blurts out, interrupting the other man.

Stiles falls silent and Derek can see his shoulders lose some of their tension. His eyes are suddenly soft when they reach Derek’s, and his lips curl up slightly.

Stiles takes a couple of steps forward, closing their distance. Derek straightens his back, gaining an inch in height, which makes Stiles scoff softly and shake his head. He touches both Derek's shoulders, but doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Derek doesn't move away, though.

“Do you… Do you think we could try again?” Stiles asks, hopeful.

Derek feels like crying.

“Third time’s the charm.” He answers with resolve, but Stiles seems hesitant.

"Can you still trust me?  _ I _ don’t even trust myself sometimes."

"You know I trust you with my life, Stiles."

"I know," He says, with a too knowing, sad smile, "And that's already more than I deserve."

Derek wants to tell Stiles that he trusts him with his heart too, but that's not true. Not yet. And that's only half Stiles' fault. Stiles had been more honest than Derek when he told the werewolf he couldn’t love again. Because, as much as Derek is sure he can love Stiles, he’s still relearning to let himself be loved. He’s done some progress, but there are still some miles to run.

He realises then that he desperately wants to run those last few miles with Stiles by his side.

“You deserve much more than that,” Derek says, and Stiles seems ready to argue. “You keep saving me, Stiles. It happens so naturally, sometimes you don’t even know you’re doing it,” He continues, feeling braver than he ever felt in his life, “It’s why I love you.”

Derek's almost as shocked as Stiles, judging by the young man’s wide eyes and the way he steps back. Derek can barely believe he was able to finally say the words. He has a lot to lose, but whatever happens now, he’ll take it and deal with it. He knows he can do it. Nothing is as bad as living without Stiles. And even if Stiles can never come to love him, he at least trusts Stiles enough to let him down gently, now that he knows.

Stiles’ heart beats hard and fast against his chest. Derek thinks he would be able to hear it even if he was human. Stiles takes a step closer to Derek again, but he seems torn. He’s not sad, but he’s anxious, uncertain. Still, Derek can smell the sweet scent of honey in the air, sweeter than he remembers. It calms him down. 

Stiles takes a breath and licks his lips. He opens his mouth to speak, but Derek interrupts him.

“Don’t say it. Not unless you’re sure. Not unless you'd have said it anyway.”

Stiles keeps staring at him, probably searching in his features if he means it.

“I just needed to be sure that you know.” Derek shrugs, “When I thought I was gonna die, I regretted not saying it properly.”

Stiles takes a moment to think, licks his lips again and says, honestly, “If I don’t say it, it's not because…” Stiles lets the rest of the sentence die in his mouth.

“It's okay,” Derek says.

His heart flutters with the idea that Stiles might have feelings for him.

Stiles looks the most beautiful Derek has ever seen him. Honest and hopeful and open, and Derek can't resist pulling him into a hug and burying his nose in Stiles' neck. Stiles promptly retributes, holding him tight.

"I would never forgive myself if I didn't get you back," Stiles whispers, relief hitting Derek's nose.

"But you did." He holds the other man tighter, using a bit too much force.

"I missed you too," Stiles says, placing his forehead on Derek’s shoulder.

They stand there, hugging each other for too long and yet not long enough. Stiles breaks the silence again.

“Now,” He sniffs and takes a step back, “Let’s get some food in you. What do you want?”

“Is it too early for breakfast?” Derek asks.

Stiles smiles and shakes his head.

“Pancakes and bacon?” He asks, and Derek can’t avoid grinning.

\-------

It turns out that Derek had been asleep for two days. Miranda and Valerie visited twice, and Scott, Kira and Malia had stayed in town until that same night. Stiles tells him so as they sit on the young man's living room floor, by the coffee table, in front of the remnants of their breakfast.

The moon still hangs high in the sky, when Derek finally asks what happened to his captors.

“Most of them got killed,” Stiles says, evenly, “We managed to capture two for questioning. Miranda has them. But one managed to get away. The pack's still looking for him, but it seems like we managed to end their operation. We sent a notice to every pack we know and asked them to pass the word forward. They messed up with the wrong people this time.” Stiles says, with a cautious smile.

Derek nods.

“You should’ve seen it. So many people showed up to help.” Derek raised his eyebrows at the information, “Scott, Kira, Malia, even Chris Argent. Oh, Cora’s gonna be here on the weekend. She’d been away so we couldn’t contact her before. You should also text Isaac when you get the chance. Practically every adult in Miranda’s pack went after you, and like at least five other packs from the state of New York joined us when they got word that we knew where they would be.”

“How did you find out?”

“They took you,” Stiles said in a low voice, “I’ll always find you.”

Derek could swear Stiles blushed faintly.

\-------

Cora stays for two entire weeks. She meets Miranda for the first time and catches up with Valerie. Stiles teases and mocks her fondly, and she growls and pretends to dislike it. She and Derek spend all of their time together and, in the beginning, she seems worried, observant, as if she’s assessing Derek’s well-being. Then she softens, lets her walls down and looks happier. There’s a constant scent of relief around her which Derek attributes to his own contentment.

When she leaves, she hugs Derek tightly and promises to visit again soon.

After that, it’s as if Stiles never left. They don’t live together anymore, but still see each-other practically every day. Derek meets Stiles after work in his new favourite coffee shop, they go to the same meetings in Mirada's packhouse, and movie nights are reinstated. Some late nights, after a movie or two, Derek stays over on Stiles’ couch, others, Stiles reclaims his old bedroom in Derek’s apartment.

It’s just like those first months of their reacquaintance that Derek cherished so much over a year ago. But this time it feels easy. Now Derek doesn’t shy away from the warmth of Stiles’ body beside him on the couch. He doesn’t hesitate before nudging the human with his hip in the kitchen, with just a little too much force, unbalancing Stiles when he’s being a little shit about Derek’s cooking abilities.

Stiles can make Derek laugh again, and sometimes it feels like he does it only so he can hear the sound of Derek’s happiness. They don’t talk about Derek’s feelings again, they know they're there. Stiles doesn’t take advantage of them, kind and respectful like Derek knew he could be. And it feels nice. It’s not exactly easy, but it’s the best it’s ever been, and Derek finds hope in that.

But it’s not perfect.

Stiles still has the occasional migraine and some nights are louder and darker than others. But Derek’s there for him with kind words and, when they spend the night in the same apartment, a cup of hot chocolate. Stiles doesn’t rely anymore on the bodies of strangers whose names he’ll forget before the sun even rises.

\-------

Derek wakes up on Stiles’ couch one night with his heart racing. It takes him a moment to understand why the hairs on his arms are standing.

The smell of Stiles panic twists his stomach. He leaps up and walks fast-paced to Stiles’ bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Stiles?” He asks, listening in and hearing only shuffling sheets and Stiles’ hectic heartbeat.

Derek opens the door and nearly chokes on the fear in the room. He moves quickly and kneels by the bed, reaching for Stiles’ shoulder.

“Stiles, wake up,” He tries, nudging the sleeping man, but Stiles only throws his arm up, hitting Derek in the face, “Stiles, you’re sleeping, come on, wake up,” He says, loudly.

“Derek,” Stiles mumbles, and Derek would have missed it, was it not for his supernatural hearing. “Derek, run,” Stiles tells him inside his nightmare.

Derek sits on the bed beside him, holding both of Stiles' shoulders firmly. He nearly shouts, “Stiles, wake up!”

Stiles opens his eyes and sits up screaming, trying to move away from the werewolf.

“Stiles, it’s me. You’re okay. You’re home,” Derek reassures him, not letting him go.

Stiles stops screaming and stares at Derek, panting and with tears in his eyes.

“Derek,” He says weakly, reaching for him.

Derek holds his hand and pulls him closer at the sign of a tear rolling down the younger man’s cheek.

“You’re okay. We’re okay.” Derek repeats, and he feels Stiles’ fingers clench on his t-shirt.

He holds Stiles until the human lets his arms fall by his sides. Derek pushes him gently away so he can look into Stiles’ eyes, red and puffy.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, looking at his hands.

“It’s okay. I’m glad I was here to wake you up,” Derek says, with a weak smile, “Is it always this bad?” He asks, more serious, dreading the idea of Stiles going through this on his own.

Stiles shakes his head, “It hadn’t been this bad for a while.”

“Are you gonna be able to sleep again?”

Stiles looks away and Derek thinks for a moment.

“Get up,” He says, and stands. Stiles looks at him, confused. “Come on, get up, get dressed. We’re gonna take the werewolf approach to this.”

Stiles gets up, still looking uncertain, but he doesn’t argue.

“Are you gonna take me to break stuff and maim squirrels or something?” He asks.

“Or something,” Derek replies, smirking excitedly.

\-------

Derek drives them to his favourite running spot, not too far from Miranda's packhouse, just in case. They stop for shitty coffee at a 24hr Macdonald's drive-through - Stiles only demand, - before arriving at their destination. They get out of the car and Stiles seems even more unsure than before, but he still smells like fear and his heartbeats oscillate at times. So Derek doesn’t budge.

“We’re going for a run? It’s five in the morning.”

“Perfect time. We’re going that way,” Derek says, pointing at the top of a high hill and then takes his shirt off.

“Please tell me we’re not running naked.”

“It’s too cold to go around running naked,” He says, but proceeds to take the rest of his clothes off anyway, using the car between them to cover his body.

Derek catches Stiles' blush before he looks away.

“I’ll be warm enough,” Derek continues, stark naked, “With the fur.” He locks the car and tosses the car keys to Stiles.

“What the f-” Stiles begins to protest, but then Derek is fully shifting and Stiles’ words fail him.

They stare at each other for a while, and it’s almost funny to think of a person staring down at a wolf, casually sitting a few feet away from him. Derek then yawns widely, amusing himself with the situation even more.

“I’m still not used to that,” Stiles says.

Derek huffs and starts trotting in the direction of the hill. As Stiles follows him, he starts running, always looking back not to lose track of the human.

\-------

They reach the top around half an hour later. Derek sits and waits for Stiles to catch up with him for a couple of minutes. The human approaches, panting slightly, and drops himself on the floor by Derek.

“I’m not sure,” Stiles says, catching his breath, “That I like the werewolf approach that much.”

He lies on the ground, closing his eyes, trying to recover from the exercise.

Derek watches him for a moment. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his lips are parted and his heart slowly returns to its normal beating speed. He smells of clean sweat and the outside air, and Derek loves every bit of it.

He makes a soft huffing noise and nudges Stiles’ arm with his nose. Stiles looks at him, and Derek looks away to where the sun is starting to rise. He sits and Stiles does the same.

They sit in silence, side by side, as they watch the sunrise and feel its warmth.

Stiles smells content.

Derek looks at him, only to find Stiles staring at him. The younger man slowly looks away again, taking a deep breath. He places his hand on Derek’s back, entangling his fingers in the soft fur.

Derek lets out a breath, enjoying the warmth of Stiles’ hand on him.

“I take it back,” Stiles says, “The werewolf approach is the shit.”


	10. Not a Temporary Love

Derek and Stiles sit at a bar on a Friday night, talking mainly about work, when the waiter brings Stiles a drink he didn’t order.

“The lady in red by the bar ordered this for you,” He explains.

Both men look at the direction of the bar and she raises her glass when Stiles catches her eyes. Derek tries to swallow his jealousy, but a disapproving rumble is still audible. Luckily the waiter has already left, so his embarrassment is caused only by Stiles' smirk.

The younger man looks at him with an arched eyebrow, and Derek knows he’s blushing.

Stiles seems to think for a moment, working his lower lip. He clasps his hands on the table and gets up.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” Stiles says, grabs the drink and makes his way to the woman.

Derek can barely hear him among all the different chatters in the room, but he makes out ‘sorry’ and ‘someone else’, and that’s enough to alleviate the twinge in his chest.

Stiles leaves the drink behind and makes his way back to Derek.

“Don’t worry, Sourwolf, I’m all yours tonight.” He says, jokily, but his heart doesn’t skip a beat.

Derek simply grunts and rolls his eyes, unable to appreciate the joke.

Stiles looks a bit confused by his reaction. He even tilts his head as he takes a moment to think about it. He licks his lips before he speaks.

Derek catches the spike in his heartbeat.

“You know, I bought your last book as soon as it came out. It took me months to be able to actually read it though. I was feeling guilty and ashamed enough without having a proper insight on how you felt when you left Beacon Hills. But once I started I just couldn’t put it down.”

Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes briefly, before staring at his beer again, playing with its label.

“It must have been painful to write it.”

Derek nods. Stiles continues speaking.

“For the longest time, I was angry with you for leaving. You preached about packs and brothers and how we had to stick together to survive, but then you left and I felt betrayed.” He consciously avoids Derek’s eyes, “I figured we weren’t enough of a pack for you to stay.”

“Stiles, that’s not true,” Derek says, pained.

“I know,” Stiles replies and a sad smile appears on his face, “But this whole time I thought  _ I _ wasn’t enough for you to stay. Not once I considered that I was part of the reason you left.”

Their eyes meet and Derek swallows with difficulty. It’s true in a way.

“You were the first person I was able to trust since the fire," Derek says, "You were always there and never asked for anything in return. You made me want to try harder, be better. And I couldn’t be better in Beacon Hills, not after Boyd and Erica…” He pauses, “If it wasn’t for you, Cora would have died too. After that, I wanted to deserve the last bit of family I still have.”

“Oh, the irony.”

“When I heard from you again you’d gotten out. You were in the FBI internship programme and with Lydia. You all seemed fine without me. If I had known, I’d never have left you there alone.”

Stiles reaches for Derek’s hand and lets his rest on top of it. His eyes are soft, but his lips curve downward slightly.

“There's something I've been meaning to ask you,” He starts, his voice low and serious, “Did you refuse Miranda’s invitation because of me?”

Derek doesn’t reply at first, instead, he stares at his and Stiles’ hands together. But Stiles smells of guilt, and Derek doesn't ever want to smell that on him again, so he tries to explain himself.

“Only partly,” He says, “The only alphas I ever followed were my mother and Laura. As much as Miranda is a dear friend, I can’t follow her in the same way, but I was still considering it. After you said I abandoned the pack in Beacon Hills,” Stiles winces at his words, “I didn’t want you to think I was abandoning you again, since you belong to another pack.”

Stiles squeezes his hand, “I’m human, Der. I don’t ‘belong’ to packs. I’m bound to my family and my friends because I want to be. It doesn’t matter what pack you’re part of, that doesn’t change anything.”

Stiles tries a smile, which Derek returns.

“I thought you didn’t like being called human.” Derek jokes.

“Well, it’s what I am, isn’t it?” Stiles says, shrugging, and he takes a sip of his beer.

He doesn’t let go of Derek’s hand.

\-------

A week later, Derek has just finished making coffee and is settling in to read a book, when his phone rings in his pocket. Stiles’ name lights the screen.

“Stiles.”

“Derek,” Stiles replies and falls silent.

“Hi Stiles, great to hear from you! How are you?” Derek tries again, blatantly feigning enthusiasm.

Stiles chuckles, “We’ll work on your greetings later.”

“What’s up?” Derek asks and looks at his wall clock. 3 pm. Stiles should still be at work.

“I kind of need your help on a case I’ve been working on. Do you mind if I come over with some files?” Stiles asks.

“Sure.”

“Is it okay if I bring my partner as well?”

Derek hesitates to answer. If Stiles needs his help, it’s because there might be some supernatural element to this case. His partner might just get in the way if he and Derek can’t speak freely.

“Are they gonna be helpful?”

Derek hears an indignant noise coming from the other end of the line and Stiles laughs.

“Stiles, am I on speaker?” He asks, annoyed.

“No, you’re not,” Stiles answers, good-humoured. “He’s cool, he knows stuff,” He continues, cryptically.

“Okay.”

“Awesome! We’ll be up in a minute.”

Derek barely has time to be surprised before Stiles hangs up.

\-------

Stiles' partner, introduced to Derek as Asim, is a young-looking dark-skinned man, new in town and the FBI. Like Stiles, he wears a suit, but unlike Stiles, he’s quiet and relaxed. He stands by the door until Derek is done scenting the air and invites him in. Derek knows he’s not quite human, probably another predator. But a polite one.

Stiles comes into the apartment like he still lives there. He kicks his shoes off to one side, takes his suit jacket off and loosens his tie. By the time Derek and Asim sit in the living room, Stiles is bringing them 3 cups of coffee. He sits on the floor and extends his hand to Asim, asking for something wordlessly, while taking a long gulp of coffee.

“You probably remember this one,” Stiles starts, putting his coffee down and grabbing the files Asim hands him. “The guy got away, then I got shot when I went after him alone.”

Derek growls and Asim raises an eyebrow at him, a little amused.

“Yep, that one,” Stiles continues, “Something changed, but we can’t figure out what. We think he might be trying to leave the country soon. The strange part though is that he appears and disappears every couple of years. It’s like every time we’re close enough to catch him he’s gone. He’s the reason I was assigned to London,” He says, avoiding Derek’s gaze, “I was supposed to investigate some similar open cases around the UK, but I didn’t find out much more,” He explains, “We know he has to be working with other people, but we don’t know who yet.”

“The body count every time he appears is very inconsistent as well,” Asim speaks next, “There was a peak about seven years ago and he was almost caught then. And then they started getting lower and lower.”

“But we don’t think he’s killing any less. The number of missing people seem to increase when he resurfaces, but they’re hardly ever reported,” Stiles finishes.

“How do you know they go missing, then?”

“Word of mouth,” Asim says, and Derek understands.

He couldn't report Laura's death all those years ago, after all.

“You said you need my help,” Derek states.

“Can you take a look at it? You’ve been around the whole east coast lately, maybe you heard something that could be a lead.” Stiles explains

Derek opens the folder and feels his stomach drop. He recognises the man in one of the pictures as the tall man outside his cage when he was stuck in his wolf form. He quickly moves to another picture, then a report and a map. Everything is too familiar and suddenly Derek feels sick.

“Stiles, this is…”

Derek walks to his bedroom and comes back with a box.

“This is the hunting operation.” Stiles is the one to say it, as he starts rummaging through the contents of the box.

“A werewolf is running the hunting operation?” Asim asks, disgusted.

“It looks like he was running it before he got turned,” Stiles says.

“The spike in deaths seven years ago.” Asim understands.

“You said something changed. This guy just lost his entire operation,” Derek provides.

“He must be desperate,” Asim says.

“Good. He’s finally gonna make a mistake," Stiles says, not looking away from the papers in his hands.

\-------

It’s long past 11 pm when the three men finish making a plan and Asim leaves the apartment. Stiles stays behind, eating another slice of pizza which has long gone cold. He seems deep in thought, so Derek sits beside him in silence for a while.

When it's been some time and Stiles doesn't speak, Derek says,

“This kid,” He points at one of the pictures, “He’s the one that got hurt last time, right?”

Stiles nods.

“I saw him a few months ago,” He continues.

“What?” Stiles raises his eyebrows.

“He lives upstate with his family. They’re a small pack, still young. He’s training to be their emissary,” Stiles stares at him, lips half parted, “Even if he got hurt that day, you still saved him.”

Stiles looks at the picture again and Derek can see him blink away tears.

“I hope this works. It has to work,” Stiles says, and places his reading glasses on the coffee table.

“It will,” Derek says.

“We’re so close this time. I can’t lose him again.”

“You won’t,” Derek reassures him, “You’re not doing this alone. We’ll get him this time.”

But Stiles still smells anxious. His heartbeat increases momentarily before he speaks.

“Is it okay if-” He trails off, “Can I-” He tries again, but fails.

Derek is amused by the speed in which Stiles scent switches from anxiety to frustration as the younger man huffs and squares his shoulders, determined.

“This is gonna sound horrible, and like, maybe it’s asking too much, considering, you know, but I could really use some sort of cuddling action now,” Stiles blurts out all at once and Derek raises both of his eyebrows, “I always hear how werewolves are into that kind of stuff, and I get it. The whole feeling safe and sound, pack bonding stuff. But we never,” He gestures between them frantically, “I mean I don’t see you getting much of that or even, like, seeking it yourself, so it’s totally fine if you’re not into that stuff.”

A faint blush appears on his cheeks, but he continues.

“I’ve seen Cora do it with you, and sometimes Val too, but Cora’s your sister and Val’s like your best friend so yeah, no pressure really, I just thought I’d say it so you know, you know. But don’t feel like you have to if it makes you uncomfortable or-”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts him, feeling his lips twitch.

Stiles stares at him with expecting eyes. He’s a little flushed and his lips are dry. He looks beautiful.

“Come’ere,” Derek says, softly, and raises his arm so Stiles can get closer into his space.

It starts awkwardly. Stiles is tense at first, but as Derek rubs circles on his shoulder with his fingertips, the human relaxes, taking a deep breath and letting his head fall on the werewolf’s shoulder. Derek nuzzles Stiles’ hair, scenting him. Stiles reaches for Derek’s hand and holds it between both of his. Derek relaxes in turn, toeing the line between holding back and giving in.

“I’m sorry for that night,” Stiles says, unprompted, “You know the one when I…”

“Yeah,” Derek says.

“If I’d known, I’d never…”

“I know. It’s okay,” Derek reassures him and slips his fingers between Stiles’. “You didn’t mean any harm.”

“I didn’t mean a lot of what I said that night,” Stiles says.

He moves Derek’s hand to his lips and places a kiss on it. Derek’s heart picks up.

“One thing I meant, though,” Stiles continues, putting Derek’s hand down again, “I’d never regret you,” He finishes, looking at Derek.

Derek catches Stiles' eyes, inches away from his own. Stiles’ whiskey brown eyes don’t look away, honest and dark. The werewolf catches the familiar scent of raw honey emanating from the human, and his eyes set on Stiles’ lips. He swallows and licks his lips. Stiles’ eyes flick to them briefly.

“I really want to kiss you,” Derek says.

Stiles turns slightly, perching up and closing the distance between them. He pauses millimetres away from Derek, noses touching gently.

Derek inhales and lets his eyes fall closed.

Stiles lips, soft and heavy, are on Derek’s in less than a second. The kiss is slow and dry and Stiles' scent is driving Derek crazy.

The younger man places his hand on Derek’s soft beard and moves aways gently. Derek protests with a chesty growl. Stiles places their foreheads together.

“I know,” He says, breathily, responding to Derek’s non-verbal protest, “But I want to do this right.”

Derek exhales and moves away, opening his eyes.

“Okay,” He practically whispers.

Stiles' eyes are the kindest Derek’s ever seen them, and something stirs inside him at the same time as a comforting certainty settles his heart.

They settle to their previous position on the couch, Stiles' head on Derek's shoulder, and Derek's hand between Stiles'.

The next morning, Stiles makes breakfast and Derek doesn’t remember falling asleep.

\-------

The mission two days later is straightforward. Stiles leads the operation from the FBI side, and Derek leads the werewolves from Miranda’s pack. The hiding place is surrounded by layers of agents and werewolves for over a mile in every direction. So when the fugitive escapes from his hideout, he’s intercepted in only a few minutes. Derek, in his beta shift, is the one to do it. He knows the man’s face and scent, and the two clash viciously.

The man might not be a born wolf, but he’s been on the run for nearly two decades, so he fights like one. Derek’s getting tired and doesn’t stop bleeding, receiving new blows as the previous ones still heal. He’s thrown on the ground and is ready to bring the fight down with him when he sees the man launching himself at him again.

He hears four gunshots and then the man is falling limply over him.

“Derek, are you okay?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah,” He says, struggling a little.

Derek pushes the man away from him and sits up. Stiles is still pointing his gun at the man’s body when Derek gets on his feet.

“He’s dead,” Derek says, and only then Stiles holsters his gun.

“You’re hurt,” He says, studying Derek’s slashed and bloody clothes.

“Not too bad. I’ll be fine,” He notices that Stiles goes back to staring at the man’s body, so he reaches for the human’s shoulder, “Hey, it’ll be okay. You got him.”

“We got him,” He says, shooting Derek a smile.

Derek can hear people approaching in the distance. They probably heard the gunshots.

“I’d better leave now if I don’t wanna be in the FBI’s wanted list again,” Derek half-jokes and Stiles snorts.

“All right, Sourwolf. I’ll catch you when this is over,” He says, and approaches the dead body.

Derek looks at him for a few more seconds before he starts running towards Miranda.

\-------

Miranda throws a party two weekends later to celebrate the end of the operation that terrorised every pack in the region. She sends invites to everyone remotely involved in dismantling it and nearly everyone can make the date. Cora’s staying over again and Scott, Kira, Malia and even Lydia show up. Isaac sends his apologies, but says he’s booked a plane ticket for the festive season. Stiles and Derek are the guests of honour.

Derek feels happier than he’s felt in a long time. He’s getting a drink at the bar when Miranda approaches him.

“Will you follow me to my office for a moment?” She asks, good-humoured.

He nods and follows, already expecting her to invite him to be part of her pack again. However, he doesn’t think his answer will be different this time.

He’s surprised to find other people in the room with them. Cora’s perched on the armrest beside Scott, and Asim, a wereleopard, Derek now knows, stands by the window, talking to the alpha of a pack in West Virginia. He catches Stiles and Valerie staring at him outside the room before Miranda closes the door behind him.

Derek has never seen this many alpha werewolves in the same room in his entire life. He counts six, and three other betas beside him and Cora. He knows them all by name, has stayed with their packs more than once, trained and ran with each of them. He’d even call some of them friends.

He looks at Scott involuntarily and the younger wolf smiles at him. Derek settles in an armchair and waits, feeling awkward and confused.

Miranda’s the first to speak, “Last year I told you that if you ever wanted to be part of my pack, my doors would always be open for you, but it seems like that wasn’t exactly what you needed,” She says, and Derek feels the urge to apologise and justify himself, but she continues, “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have been able to eliminate a massive threat to all of our packs. And you were only able to act in that way because you don’t submit to a particular pack. Still, it’s difficult for a wolf to feel like he doesn’t belong. So we have a different offer for you this time.”

Derek expects her to ask him to choose one of the packs in the room, despite her praise for his actions. He doesn’t expect her to say what she says next.

“We want you to be an honorary member of each pack in this room.”

“What?” He asks, dumbly.

“You don’t have to submit to any of the alphas,” Miranda explains.

“But you’ll always have a place to stay with us,” Scott says.

“And with our allies,” Asim amends.

“Why?” Derek asks, eyebrows raised and full of emotion. 

“Because that’s what friends are for,” Scott says.

“And family,” Cora complements.

“But I,” Derek starts, but Scott interrupts him with a chuckle.

“Derek, we’re brothers now,” He says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Derek glares at him.

“Would you like some time to think about it?” Miranda asks.

“No,” Derek answers, softly, after a moment, “I don’t need to think about it. I’m honoured, I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“Well, you already have.”

The discussion ends at that, and after a few minutes of ‘it’s good to see you again’, ‘X misses you’ and ‘we need you to come back and kick Y’s butt, they’re getting too cocky’, they all return to the party.

Valerie practically squeals when he nods at her, and she runs in for a tight hug. Stiles is nowhere to be seen.

Derek still feels overwhelmed after a while and decides to find a quiet place for himself, away from the centre of the party.

“Are you gonna sit around and sulk?”

Derek hears, and only then he notices that Stiles is lying on the grass a few feet away.

“Not sulking,” He replies with a big smile, and stands beside Stiles.

“Has anyone ever told you that your smile’s breathtaking?” Stiles asks, and Derek feels himself blush.

“What have you been doing here?” Derek asks.

“Gathering courage,” Stiles says.

“What for?”

“To tell you that I first fell in love with you when I was seventeen,” Stiles says, all at once and Derek feels the air get knocked out of his lungs. “I don’t know what was the thing that did it. It was so gradual that I didn’t even notice the change until after you left. But even before Lydia and I were a thing, I was already gone on you.”

Stiles stands up, “The second time I fell for you, it was like crash-landing. One day you were my friend and the next you were quoting Lord of the Rings and I was a mess.”

Derek laughs fondly at the memory, “The day you passed your aptitude test.”

“You remember,” Stiles says, a little surprised.

Derek nods.

“I was terrified of it,” Stiles resumes, a little more serious, “I mean I was like a walking dumpster fire. How could I love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

“So you’re not scared anymore?”

“Of course I am!” He says, loudly, “But I just can't accept the alternative.”

“Then what changed?” Derek asks, cautiously hopeful.

“Lydia yelled at me,” He says, and scoffs, sticking his hands in his pockets, “She said the difference between you and her is that I wanted to love her despite not being able to, and I didn’t want to love you despite already doing it.”

“You didn’t want to love me?” Derek asks, a little hurt.

“You’ve been through enough shit to last you ten lifetimes, Der. I felt like a ticking time bomb. I couldn’t bear to be the one to hurt you next,” Stiles takes a deep breath, “But then I did and I could only blame myself for it.”

“What about now?” Derek asks, “Do you still think you can’t love me?”

Stiles looks him in the eyes and takes a step in his direction.

“I could have told you that night in the kitchen after we got you back. You were braver than me and you told me you loved me. I already knew then that I love you. But after what I said and what I did, I didn’t want to just say it. I wanted to show you I mean it.”

Derek lets out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“The honorary pack member thing,” Derek asks, “It was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Stiles licks his lips, smiles and closes the distance between them, “Loving you has always been too damn easy, Derek. What I want now is to make you happy.”

Derek pulls Stiles by the arm and kisses him hard and clumsily, like he’s gasping for air and Stiles is oxygen. The human gives in immediately, matching the werewolf’s intensity as if he was born for it.

Derek’s hands find Stiles’ neck and waist, and Stiles’ fingers dig in the soft fabric on Derek's back. They press their whole bodies together as if every inch of them is craving contact. Stiles moans in the kiss and Derek growls, forcing himself to move away, eyes flashing blue.

Stiles stares at him with hazy eyes and swollen, parted lips.

"You know it's hot when you do that, right?" Stiles asks, out of breath.

“You still have no sense of self-preservation, huh,” Derek teases, fondly.

“Not around you, I don’t,” Stiles replies.

Derek’s eyes return to hazel-green. Stiles kisses him again, slowly and gently this time. He gives himself in so completely to the kiss that Derek can even taste honey on his tongue.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers as he moves away again, “We’re not alone.”

Stiles moves away abruptly and looks around, a little confused. He didn’t see or hear anyone approaching. There’s no one close to them, but he can see Scott and Kira talking to Valerie suspiciously loudly, close to the house.

“Right," Stiles blinks a few times, “Werewolf senses. You know, I’d like some privacy over here,” He says a bit louder, so Scott, Kira and Valerie can hear him.

Derek kisses Stiles’ temple.

“Later,” He says, “Now we should enjoy the party with our friends.”

“Fine!” He says, throwing his arm up in defeat, “But I’ll have you know that if I had it my way my hands wouldn’t leave that werewolf body of yours for at least a few hours.”

Stiles looks satisfied when Scott coughs out his drink, Kira blushes and Valerie laughs loudly.

Derek closes their distance again, nuzzles Stiles’ hairline by his ear and whispers, too low for any werewolf to hear him, “Play nice until we leave and I’ll make it up to you for the entirety of the past two years.”

He hears the human’s heart pick and Stiles nearly chokes on his saliva. Derek smiles, pleased with himself and steps away.

“You’ll need more than one night for that,” Stiles replies.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Derek says, looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll hold you to it.” Stiles follows him.


End file.
